


Far From Home

by MrProphet



Series: Home [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet
Summary: This fan fiction – my first effort – was written as a response to a challenge I set myself, in a conversation on h2g2, to whit:"In all the AUs, with all their infinite variety, how come they always turn out to have the Stargate in the same facility, controlled by the US Air Force, with an iris, but using exactly the same iris deactivation code for SG-1?"Why isn't there one – say – where Napoleon got hold of the gate during his Egyptian excavation period?"The following points were raised by readers of the original posting, so I include the clarifications here:* Fasces - the ceremonial axe, wrapped in a bundle of staves, of a lictor, the bodyguard of an Imperial Roman magistrate. Representing the magistrates power to dispense either capital (the axe) or corporal (the staves) punishment, the symbol has been popular with dictators ever since. Fasces is the root of the term fascist.* Lounge lizard - a man, usually fairly rich and well-dressed, who spends his free time hanging around in lounge bars to pick up women. Not sure what the US/Canadian equivalent might be.* Leslie Phillips - velvet-voiced British character actor, in his younger years specialising in handsome cads, and later in seedy older men.* To lie back and think of England - an expression meaning to submit to sex or other indignity without enjoyment for the sake of some greater cause.





	Far From Home

****"It’s beautiful," Dr Daniel Jackson breathed.

"I have never seen anything quite like it," Teal’c agreed.

"Wow," Colonel Jack O’Neill managed.

"This is incredible," Major Sam Carter said. "With the sun giving off flares this frequently, the upper atmosphere must have an almost unprecedented composition for even this basic plant life to have evolved." Sam’s three companions turned and stared at her, but with her attention fixed on her PDA, she barely noticed. At last, Jack held out his hand and obstructed her view of the device. "Hey," Sam protested.

"Look. Up." Jack replied. Sam just looked at him. "That’s an order." Finally, she turned her eyes towards the heavens, and the astonishing light show which played across the sky, and which had almost transfixed the rest of SG-1. It was a simple environmental effect, the interaction of charged particles in the upper atmosphere with radiation from sunspot activity, akin to Earth’s Aurora Borealis and Aurora Australis. It was – admittedly – quite lovely, but Sam was more interested in the science behind the effect. Unlike Daniel’s archaeology, Sam’s fields of specialisation rarely allowed her time to sit back and smell the flowers while she worked; a chance to study a phenomenon like this would only come along once every hundred years.

Not that there was much chance of explaining that to her colleagues. Daniel was a meticulous scientist in his own way, but whenever he and Sam looked at anything, what they saw was quite different. He was also something of a romantic at heart, which was probably what had attracted him to Egypt in the first place. Jack O’Neill might be a soldier and a down-home boy, but some of Daniel’s romanticism seemed to have rubbed off on the abrasive, suicidal special forces veteran she had read about in the files when Jack was reactivated. Moreover, all science was meaningless to Jack, and she knew that her own joy in its pursuit could never be explained to him; any more than his love of fishing could be explained to her. Finally Teal’c; no romantic, he was plainly less rapt than either Jack or Daniel, but he was also no scientist, and had even less interest in numbers than Jack.

"Beautiful as it is," Daniel interjected. "We should be heading back soon." He was right. P1X-138 was a virgin world, with no indigenous animal life, and the SGC had decided that SG-1’s visit – to see if they could determine _why_ P1X-138 had a Stargate in the first place – should be under the strictest sterile conditions. All four, therefore, had been decontaminated prior to entering the wormhole, donned the cleanest uniforms that any of them had ever worn, and level A biohazard hoods over their heads to collect the stray bacteria which they exhaled. Even with these precautions however, a strict time limit of one hour had been placed on their stay here.

"OK. Let’s go," Jack said, eagerly. Despite the beauty of the sky, the planet itself was windswept and desolate, and he was aching to take his respirator off.

"Just a few more minutes?" Sam asked. Technically she was requesting permission, but Jack knew – and accepted – the limits of his command.

"Two," he replied. "Daniel; start dialling."

Regretfully tearing his gaze from the lights in the sky, Daniel stepped up to the DHD. With easy familiarity, he located the symbols corresponding to the Earth Stargate’s address and punched them in while Sam packed up her monitoring gear. He pressed the centre of the DHD, and with its customary whoosh of spray, the Stargate opened. The lights from the upper atmosphere played eerily off the event horizon, and Daniel felt a slight shiver of foreboding as SG-1 made their way to the gate. Jack and Daniel went first – Jack typing SG-1’s code into the GDO – followed by Sam and Teal’c.

"Ahh," Jack sighed, as they took that last step forward. "There’s no place like…"

The dizzying rush of Stargate travel grabbed them both, and swung them on the now-familiar rollercoaster ride through space. With a final surge, they broke from the exit event horizon, and at once knew that something was wrong. Most immediately, they noticed that they were standing in direct sunlight, instead of the electric glow of the underground gate room at Cheyenne Mountain. As their eyes adjusted, they began to take in their surroundings, and began to realise that something was _very_ wrong.

*

"Ah," Jack said, with less satisfaction than before. "There’s no place like…?"

"…the Giza Plateau," Daniel finished, as Sam and Teal’c emerged from the Stargate behind them.

"Giza? As in…"

"Where the Stargate was found. On Earth." The members of SG-1 stared out at the Great Pyramids of Giza in amazement, as the wormhole closed behind them. "Although admittedly, last time I was here they didn’t have _that_ ," Daniel added, referring to a sprawling temple complex which sat atop a stepped mound before the Pyramid of Cheops. It was almost half as tall as the pyramid itself, and must have been larger by far than any palace Daniel had ever studied.

"Oh," Jack replied. "Did they have those?" He pointed, and his companions saw that he was referring to a group of armoured figures striding towards the gate.

"Jaffa!" Teal’c snapped, lifting his staff weapon into a ready position. His companions raised their submachine guns, but the seven Jaffa returned the gesture, and a heavy tread behind them told SG-1 that they were surrounded. Slowly and reluctantly, they lowered their weapons.

Covered by the others, the lead Jaffa approached the Gate. He wore his helmet up, completely encasing his head, and while clearly of Goa’uld style, his armour was like nothing they had ever seen on a Jaffa before.

The breastplate was black, and two long, black flaps depended from it like the tails of a long coat. A golden gorget covered the throat, while the belly-plate which protected the larval Goa’uld was white. The Jaffa’s legs were covered to the upper shins by white breeches of the usual armoured fabric, and below by sheer black greaves. The helm itself bore some slight resemblance to that of a Horus Guard, but the aquiline face was set lower down. It was heavier featured, with a more hooked beak, and was topped by some fashion of squared-off hat.

The lead Jaffa looked SG-1 over as they tried to take in this extraordinary new look, then barked a sharp command. Jack – caught off-guard by the absence of ‘kree’ from the question – glanced back at Teal’c, who could only give a look of equal, although less expressive, incomprehension.

"He wants to know who we are," Daniel said. "He’s speaking…French."

" _Identifiez-vous_ ," the Jaffa commanded again, levelling his staff weapon at Jack’s sternum.

"Uh…Daniel; you wanna field this?"

"Sure." Daniel stepped forward and removed his respirator. " _Nous sommes des voyageurs qui venons de trés loin_ ," he said. "I told him we were travellers from a long way away," he translated. After a moment, the Jaffa brought his staff weapon up hard into Daniel’s gut. "Which I’m thinking may have been the wrong thing to say," he gasped, folding over. As Jack tried to step forward, the Jaffa thrust the business end of the weapon into his face, and he heard the snap of at least three more staffs opening behind them.

"Why is no-one ever pleased to see us?" Jack wondered aloud.

" _Prenez leurs armes et apportez-les au palais!_ " The Jaffa called out.

"Colonel. I have an idea what’s happened," Sam said, as SG-1 found themselves being manhandled, and their weapons taken from them. Armoured hands ripped the hoods from their heads, and as Teal’c’s was taken, the Jaffa stood back in horror. As one, a dozen staff weapons snapped open.

"Teal’c." The whisper ran through the group of Jaffa. Awed.

"Hey big guy; guess you’re famous," Jack whispered. "What did you do to _these_ guys when you were with Apophis?"

"I did nothing to them," Teal’c replied. "I have never seen Jaffa wear uniforms such as these."

" _Silence_!" The commander bellowed.

"Well, that I understood," Jack admitted.

" _Au palais_!" The Jaffa in front of them turned and marched towards the palace, while those behind prodded SG-1 with their weapons for a moment.

"They’re taking us to the palace," Daniel reported.

"Ya think?" Jack looked around, but saw no real avenue of escape. "OK people; I guess we go with the nice men in the funny hats for now." Reluctantly, the four of them stepped forward, and began the long march towards the palace gate, all the way up at the top of the palace platform. "Hey, Danny; remember the first time this happened to us?"

"Back when we were taken before Ra? Sure I remember; I got killed. Believe me, you never forget the first time you die."

"Fair point," Jack acknowledged. "I know I remember mine."

"Mind you," Daniel added, as they walked. "The second time sticks in the mind as well. And the third…"

Four of the soldiers had remained at the Gate. Presumably all of these Jaffa were part of the permanent guard for the Stargate, but apparently the other eight had all been felt necessary to escort the mighty Teal’c (and friends). Three walked ahead of them, three behind, and one on either side, and from the occasional glance shot towards them, it was Teal’c that they were worried about. It was quite a walk from the Stargate platform to the palace, especially since the steps up to the complex proved to be slightly steeper than was comfortable to climb. A shallower stair ran in a thin strip along the centre of the approach, but this the Jaffa studiously avoided.

"We couldn’t take the easy way?" Jack asked.

"Well, no," Daniel replied. "That would probably be reserved for whoever lives in the palace. This way, he or she ascends quickly and easily, while the common folk – which is to say we – struggle to reach their lofty abode."

"Not very friendly. Carter; you said you knew what was going on here?"

"Well, not exactly, sir," Sam replied. "But I have a theory."

"Well, if no-one can beat that…" He paused, no-one could. "Then I’m prepared to entertaining a little theorising."

"It’s just possible," she said. "That the ionisation effect in the atmosphere of P1X-138 created a quantum-level deflection field."

"Ah! Of course!" Jack replied. "Which naturally would…?"

"It’s like the quantum mirror, Colonel. It shunted us into a parallel universe."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa! Are you saying we just had ourselves a transporter accident?"

"That’s interesting," Daniel said.

"As near as I can make out, yes," Sam replied.

"So they’re going to drag us in there and we’ll be confronted by Teal’c’s evil twin in the forked goatee? Or maybe my evil twin in the goatee? Or yours…That’s not interesting. It’s creepy."

"No. Not the theory," Daniel told him. "Although that is interesting. The iconography." They all looked around them.

"I still do not recall seeing anything of the kind used to represent one of the System Lords," Teal’c said.

"I’m not surprised," Daniel replied, eyeing the three coloured flags and the magnificent stone eagle that loomed over the pylon entrance to the temple. "This is all home-grown." They passed through the entrance, and across a courtyard to a second door, also flanked by mighty stone pylons. "These buildings aren’t quite in the Egyptian style," Daniel continued. "Although they’re close. But the flags, the fasces, the eagles – and I’m guessing those are Eagle Guards on either side of us – they all belong to…" He fell silent as they passed through a third doorway, into what must have been the palace proper. In the foyer stood a huge statue, displaying a man in an outfit that – like those of the Eagle Guards – was not quite of Goa’uld design. Over his armour he wore a long coat, on his head a wide, bell-curve hat, and his right hand was held across his chest, tucked under the coat.

"Belong to what?" Jack demanded. Daniel just stared at the statue, dumbstruck.

"Napoleonic France," Sam replied.

Jack looked up at the statue, squinted, and turned his head slightly to one side. "No way," he said. "A little taller than advertised, isn’t he?" One of the Jaffa prodded him in the back, and said something in French.

"He says to keep moving and not profane the statue of the Emperor with your unworthy eyes," Daniel whispered.

"Unworthy eyes," Jack fumed. "You tell them these eyes are very worthy, thank you very much."

"Actually, Jack; that wasn’t _exactly_ what he said," Daniel admitted. Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly. "You really don’t want to know," Daniel assured him.

"Don’t these clowns know any English?"

"Um. Good point," Daniel admitted. " _Parlez vous anglais_?" He asked. The Jaffa made no response. "I think they’re glowering now."

"How can you tell?" Sam asked, eyeing the motionless metal of the Jaffa eagle masks.

"Just a feeling," Daniel admitted.

"You didn’t think of that before?" Jack asked.

"Well, I’m used to speaking to people from different planets in bizarre, hybridised versions of ancient Near Eastern and Classical Languages. Most of those don’t even have a phrase for: ‘do you speak…’, and if they do they don’t have a word for English." They walked on in silence, feeling a little oppressed by the echo of their guards’ feet in the cavernous halls. Robed servants – or possibly slaves – scurried here and there, but the place had a feeling of emptiness. "Anyway; it’s a mistranslation," Daniel added.

"My unworthy eyes?"

"Napoleon’s height. You see the autopsy put him at five-foot-two, which is fairly short, even for the time, but in fact those were French feet, not English, which puts him nearer five-foot-six in our terms."

"Well, you are just full of…useful information," Jack returned. "So what gives? How come Napoleon has Jaffa? And is alive and well in the twenty-first century."

"At a guess I’d say he must have dug up the Stargate during his Egyptian campaign. In our world his troops uncovered the Great Sphinx and a lot of the pyramids; I guess in this one they just dug a little deeper."

"They must have got the Stargate working, then gone to Abydos," Sam took up the hypothesis. "I guess they defeated Ra, then came back to Earth with Goa’uld technology…"

"And conquered the world," Daniel finished.

"Great," Jack retorted. "So not only did they get the Gate working faster than we did, they what? Killed Ra with one of those big bowling ball bombs with a hissing fuse and took over the world? Does anyone else feel like an underachiever?"

"I do not believe that this Napoleon acted alone, O’Neill," Teal’c reported. "Look ahead of us." They looked up, following Teal’c’s gaze; Jack stifled a laugh at the sight of the figures guarding the massive, ornately-gilded wooden door ahead of them, whose helms looked to have been designed to make the Eagle Guards’ look dignified.

"What are those supposed to be?" He asked.

"Those are Setesh Guards," Daniel told him, and Jack stopped feeling the urge to laugh.

*

At the great door, SG-1 found themselves handed over to the Setesh Guards, while the Eagles returned to the Gate. These Jaffa wore a more conventional form of armour, akin to that of Apophis’ Serpent Guards, but their helmets were quite distinctive. As the door was opened, they tried in vain not to stare at the bizarre, down-turned noses and squared-off ears of the Setesh helms, but once they were led into what was obviously the throne room, they found it easy enough to shift their focus from the Jaffa.

The throne room was grand and elaborate, and as full of contradictions as the rest of the building. It was primarily constructed in an Egyptian design , with hypostyle walkways between the main chamber and the huge picture windows, yet the high ceiling was vaulted, and the stone surfaces were decorated in white and gold, in a manner more akin to Versailles than Deir el Bahiri. The high dais at the end farthest from the door was crowned by two great seats of gilded wood and red velvet, and on the wall behind it hung a massive painting of Napoleon, standing proudly in his full Goa’uld battle dress. Seated on a chair beside him was a curved, feminine figure, barely concealed by the costume of a Goa’uld queen, her perfectly proportioned face framed by hair of flaming red. Many people might have assumed a certain artistic license had gone into producing an image of such loveliness, but the members of SG-1 knew that it was all too lifelike.

"Oh my," Sam said, guardedly.

"Well, the gang’s all here," Jack agreed.

"Hathor," Daniel confirmed, his voice slightly thick with the memories he tried so very hard to suppress.

"Kegalo!" One of the Setesh Guard’s snapped. His armour was more ornate that that of his companions; the weird head was decorated in gold, and a black-and-gold silk sash hung from his belt. At a guess, Jack would have thought him the First Prime. "Ke’i!"

"Is he trying to say ‘kree’?" Jack asked.

"No," Daniel replied. "Kegalo is ‘silence’, and ke’i means…" The Jaffa struck Daniel with his staff weapon, forcing him to his knees. "…kneel," he finished, as his companions were forced by rough hands to do the same. Jack shrugged off the hands and knelt under his own power, Sam following his lead. Teal’c remained standing defiantly until two Jaffa grabbed his shoulders, and a third struck a vicious blow to the back of his knees.

"Ke’i fa Goa’uld, Setesh," the Jaffa commanded, his voice reverent even through the helmet’s distortion and amplification.

"Kneel before your God, Setesh," Daniel translated in a whisper, then jumped almost out of his skin as the First Prime pounded his staff weapon three times on the ground.

There was a long moment of silence, and then a procession emerged from behind the dais. First came two children, a blonde, Caucasian boy and an Arabic-looking girl, both about eight years old, strewing the ground with lotus blossoms from the right side of the dais, up the steps to the right-hand throne, where they sat, one on each side of the chair. They were followed by a dozen young people, eight women, four men, of assorted races, who draped themselves decoratively across the steps, leaving only a narrow passage from the floor to the throne. None of them could have been older than twenty, and all were exceptionally attractive, and dressed in flowing, diaphanous white robes. Following them came a beefy, bare-chested man in black leather pants, gripping a pair of leather leashes, at the end of which strained two bizarre creatures with familiar faces.

"Set animals," Daniel whispered, incredulous.

"I thought you said they were extinct?" Sam replied. "Or mythical."

"Or both," Jack chipped in. Daniel began to respond, but the First Prime rapped the staff on the floor again, and he thought better of it. The bare-chested man half-led, half-dragged the truculent Set animals to the pole at the foot of the steps and tethered them there. They snarled and strained at their leashes in an attempt to reach SG-1, the securing knots stretching, but thankfully holding. The animals themselves were vaguely dog-like, but with an erect, fork-tipped tail, those strange square-tipped ears, and of course, the drooped snout that was the source of so much hilarity to other Jaffa. With a pair of vicious little black eyes, and a row of wickedly-sharp white teeth showing sharply against the black fur, those snouts looked far less ridiculous than they did on the Setesh Guards’ helmets.

Finally, there emerged from the shadows a tall, imposing male figure, dressed in rich, flowing black robes that left his well-formed torso bare, and a Setesh mask which sprouted from a wide collar of gold and trinium. The eyes of his helm burned white, and the surface of the mask was as red as blood. Wrapped around his right hand were the gem-encrusted strips and wires of a ribbon device, and there could be no doubting who this figure was, whose entrance sent a wave of awe and terror through the room.

With measured, powerful strides, Setesh ascended to the throne, reaching out here and there to touch the head of one of his ivory-clad lovelies. Each time he did so, the one so blessed would strain to follow, but remain seated, with a look of blissful obedience on their faces which brought one word into the minds of SG-1: Nishta; the euphoric chemical which turned Teal’c’s son Rya’c against his father, and which had once – briefly – turned Jack, Sam and Daniel into willing slaves to Setesh; or Seth as he had called himself at the time.

Reaching his seat, Setesh turned and sat, then gazed out onto the faces of his prisoners. In spite of himself, Daniel felt a kind of profound, religious fear grip him; a stronger reaction even than that which he had experienced on his first meeting with Ra, the Goa’uld who had exiled this one to Earth.

Slowly, deliberately, Setesh spoke. "O’Neill."

"Guess I’m famous too," Jack remarked. The room fell quiet, the atmosphere so tense that you could have cut it with a knife. Then, Setesh reached up to the back of his neck, and touched the tiny stud which controlled his helmet. Smooth as silk, the metallic surface flowed away from the Goa’uld’s head, disappearing into the ornate collar which covered his shoulders and sternum and revealing a strong, handsome face. His hair was red, and fell about his shoulders, and his eyes showed green for a brief moment, before the white glow filled them. Around SG-1, the Setesh Guards retracted their own helms, but Daniel found it difficult to draw his eyes from the figure on the throne.

"Jack O’Neill," Setesh repeated. "We see that the reports of your death were overoptimistic."

"Yeah; I get that a lot," Jack replied, but Daniel heard something off in the cocky, defiant voice. Whatever it was about Setesh that was affecting Daniel so deeply must be getting to Jack as well.

"It pleases us that we shall talk again," Setesh continued. "We found you most amusing at our last meeting. It pleases us more that we shall be able to kill you ourselves. We only regret that Selmak’s sacrifice robs us of the pleasure of doing the same to him."

"Huh?" Daniel glanced at Jack, and caught Sam doing the same. They were all equally baffled.

"And the First Prime of Cronus," Setesh said. Teal’c hissed angrily at the suggestion that he served his father’s murderer. "Bearing the mark of Apophis, travelling with the agents of the Tok’ra, and daring to pass through _our_ Stargate. This promises to be a most, interesting, day. Jaffa!" The sudden bark of command caused Sam, Daniel and Jack to start violently. "Take them to the dungeons."

The First Prime snapped an order to his subordinates, and Jack and Teal’c were wrestled to their feet. They struggled, but Jack was knocked to the floor by a powerful blow to the head from the First Prime, and three staff weapons snapped open at Teal’c. It was clear who was seen as the greater threat. Sam and Daniel were shoved down before they could rise, staff weapons pushed between their shoulder-blades. Teal’c’s hands were bound, and he was led away, two Setesh guards following with Jack’s prone form. When another guard laid his hand on Daniel however, the Goa’uld waved him back.

"Leave these two," he ordered. "They shall serve us."

"Uh-oh," Daniel muttered.

"As you like to talk," the Goa’uld said, pointing at Daniel. "Tell us your names, and why you have come."

"Um. I’m Mickey, and this is Minnie," Daniel said, with as much courage as he could summon. "We just came to see the home of the great and powerful Setesh."

"Love what you’ve done with the place," Sam offered gamely.

Setesh’s eyes blazed with fury for a moment, but then he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound, which – despite the evident and sincere amusement it carried – failed to reassure. "You have courage, and spirit," he told them, a grudging respect in his voice. "We will enjoy you greatly." 

Setesh stood, and stepped forward, almost to the base of the dais. He put out his right hand and idly stroked the head of one of his harem, a dark-haired, dusky skinned girl, who might have been North African, or even Abydonian. At his touch, she pressed her head rapturously into his palm, like a contented cat. "Now tell us," he commanded Sam. "Who are you?"

"We are Nick and Nora," she replied. "Dental floss salesmen from Montana." 

Setesh laughed again, but this time he was not amused. "So be it." Light flared under the Goa’uld’s palm, and the girl’s eyes were lit from within by the fire of the ribbon device. "Now," Setesh demanded, his eyes burning white-hot into Daniel’s mind as he spoke over the screams of his servant. "Once more. Who are you?"

"Stop it! You’re killing her!"

"Who…?"

"Daniel Jackson. I’m an archaeologist."

"Major Samantha Carter, USAF." The two of them bowed their heads in defeat. It was not that their names gave Setesh power over them, so much as the simple fact that they had been defeated. Setesh looked them over for a long moment, and then at last released the girl from the killing grip. She sobbed with pain and relief, and sagged against Setesh’s thigh, murmuring thanks to her god for his mercy. He stroked her hair, tenderly, then set her back among her fellows.

"You see," he told Sam and Daniel. "We can work things out like reasonable people." His smile was beatific, and his words had a sincerity which touched Daniel in spite of himself. He shook himself, mentally: What was wrong with him?

Setesh barked a single command, and the bare-chested slave untied one of the Set animals and brought it over to his master. Setesh took the leash and bent to fondle the beast’s head as though it were a puppy. Then he stood, and pointed at the two humans. "Sha’lokma’kor!" He commanded, and the animal strained against the leash as it lunged for Sam, setting forth a fierce yowling bark. Its mouth foamed like a rabid dog’s, and the foam seethed and steamed in the air, letting off a greenish vapour with a powerful, familiar aroma.

"Nishta," Daniel whispered in astonishment. But then the gas overtook him and he passed out.

*

Sam woke on a soft couch, not knowing how long she had been unconscious. She remembered the foul breath of the animal – decaying flesh, mixed with the sweetness of nishta – and then darkness until now. The first time she had been exposed to nishta she had been gone for about thirty minutes, but she did not know how her past exposure would affect her recovery time. She wondered briefly if she would actually be immune to the nishta carried in a dog-thing’s breath, but she certainly felt no compulsion to worship Setesh, or to put on one of those…

"Oh God," she groaned, sitting up and looking down at herself. Her clothes had been taken at some point during her unconsciousness, and she was dressed in one of the barely decent robes which had adorned Setesh’s drugged-up lovelies.

"Oh God."

Sam looked round, and saw Daniel struggling groggily to his feet. "Daniel!" She knelt to help him, picking up his glasses from where they had been set at the head of the couch. She slipped them onto his face and he blinked at her.

"Sam? What the hell are you wearing?" Sam wrapped her arms around herself, as Daniel did a little double-take. "Wait a minute. What the hell am I wearing? Oh God." Daniel was dressed in another of the diaphanous robes.

"Is it just me; or is it draughty in here?" Sam asked.

"I guess the thick, woollen robes were a concession to the chilly Washington climate," Daniel agreed. He stood, and began to look around the room, quickly locating a closet. "Ah-ha." He drew out two more robes, also white, but more opaque than what they were wearing, and passed one to Sam.

"Thanks," Sam said, slipping the second robe over the first. "Much better. Look," she added. "Jack and Teal’c…"

"Never need to know anything about this," Daniel fervently agreed. "You think _I_ want them to know I was dressed like this?"

"Not good for your macho image," Sam acknowledged as she moved to the door and tried the handle. Daniel shrugged.

"If I was that macho to begin with it would have been the leather pants and handling the Set animal leashes. Locked?" Sam nodded. "I guess we wait for them to show up and take us to the harem then."

"Us?"

"Well, I didn’t want to mention it to Jack last time, he was nervous enough about the eunuch thing. But not only was Seth noted for his carnal appetites, which were incredible, even for a God…"

"Okay; you didn’t tell me this either," Sam noted.

"There are also numerous accounts to suggest that he may have been bisexual. Or possibly just bored and decadent," he added.

"Well, I suppose we could just go with it," Sam teased. "He _was_ kinda cute."

Daniel grimaced. "I think we should try to O’Neill method," he suggested.

"Beat up the guards when they come in, steal their guns and shoot our way out?"

"Bingo."

"I’ll go with that."

Agreed, they settled themselves on either side of the door to wait. And wait.

"You know," Daniel said after a while. "It’s really impolite of them to keep us waiting like this." 

Sam nodded, distractedly.

"Hey, Sam?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah."

"Did you feel anything…odd, when Setesh was talking to us?" He sounded embarrassed, probably worried that he had been the only one trembling in the presence of the Dark God.

"Odd? You mean like a sense of unholy terror? And the feeling that he really was being reasonable by threatening to barbecue that poor girl’s brains if we didn’t tell him our names?" 

Daniel nodded. "That sort of thing, yes."

"Oh yeah; felt that. It was weird. I never felt that way around other Goa’uld. Not even Apophis."

"I didn’t even feel like that around Ra, and he was older and more powerful than Apophis. I mean I was scared of him, but…"

"Elf!" Sam cried.

"Elves?"

"No; E.L.F. Infrasound. Low-frequency sound waves can cause fear and anxiety in the human nervous system. If Setesh had some kind of E.L.F. generator, that might account for those reactions."

There was a ‘clunk’ from the door as the lock slid back. Sam and Daniel straightened at once, poised to spring. The door swung outwards, revealing a pair of Setesh Guards. Daniel grabbed the first and dragged him into the room, trying to snatch the zat’nik’tel from his wrist, while Sam sprung at the second and wrestled for control of his staff weapon. Sam held her own well, but the Jaffa was larger and stronger than she was, and she knew she was in a losing battle. Daniel was doing much worse, and within moments had been dropped to the floor with a bleeding nose.

"Kree!" Daniel’s opponent commanded, levelling his staff at Sam. Warily she stepped back, and the Jaffa she had been fighting with raised his staff to strike her. She started to turn, rolling with the blow, but it never fell. The high-pitched whine of a zat-blast sounded, and as she looked back, she saw the Jaffa drop to the floor, stunned, as a second shot flashed by her, striking the other Setesh Guard. She looked back to the corridor, and saw a man in a servant’s garb approaching, with a large sling bag over his shoulder and a zat’nik’tel in his hand. She moved back into the room, and watched, warily, as he pumped two more shots into each of the Jaffa, vaporising the twitching bodies.

" _Je suis français_ ," he whispered, beckoning them to follow him.

" _Nous sommes américains_ ," Daniel replied, apparently as nonplussed as Sam. This was not the first thing they had expected to hear.

"Ah, Americans. You speak English, yes?" He asked, in an uncertain accent.

"Yes," Sam agreed. "Who are you?"

"Jules. I’m with the Resistance," he replied. "I came to get you out. You’ve been under the influence of nishta before?"

"That’s right," Sam answered. "What about our friends?"

"They’re in the dungeons. We can not help them."

"We’re not leaving without them," Daniel protested.

"You must," Jules insisted. "We will do what we can for them, but first we must get you to safety, yes?"

"Alright," Sam agreed. "We’ll go, for now."

"Good. Here, put these on." He drew two hooded servant’s coats from his bag, and Sam and Daniel pulled them on over their other garments.

"Why would a Goa’uld want servants with hoods?" Daniel wondered aloud.

"Don’t knock it," Sam told him.

"Just follow me, and act natural," Jules instructed, stowing his zat in the sling bag. He led the way down the corridor at a casual pace which left Sam feeling terrified that they might be caught. Every time an Eagle Guard passed them, she was certain they would be caught, and with one zat between them, she had no illusions as to their chances.

"Where did all the Setesh Guards go?" Daniel wondered.

"They are only permitted to guard the quarters and person of Setesh," Jules answered. "The rest of the palace, aside from Astarte’s quarters, is protected by Napoleon’s Eagle Guards."

"What God does Napoleon claim to be?" Daniel asked.

"He does not. He is merely the God-Emperor Napoleon. It is said that the man commands the Goa’uld, instead of the other way around."

"That’d be something to see," Sam commented.

"He’d have to have extraordinary will," Daniel replied. "Which I suppose would go with the endless thirst for conquest. If the Goa’uld did take over, I wonder who’d notice." Jules turned right onto a staircase, which led down into the depths of the palace. They descended to the poorly lit passages of a labyrinthine cellar.

"Are the dungeons down here?" Sam asked.

"Yes, but we can not get to them. They are heavily guarded, and we are three humans with one zat’nik’tel." Sam nodded her understanding. "I do understand your reluctance to leave your companions. Most members of the resistance have lost someone in the dungeons." There was a great sadness in his voice, and neither Sam nor Daniel felt a desire to pry into his own loss. With this and the fate of their own comrades hanging over them in the subterranean darkness, the three travelled in uncomfortable silence, until at last they stopped in front of a blank wall.

"Are we lost?" Sam asked.

Jules smiled slightly, and reached out to touch the wall, his finger held in a strange pattern. Then he gave a quick twist of his wrist, and the wall circled open like the Stargate iris back home, revealing a long tunnel, lined with blue, luminous crystals.

"These are Tok’ra tunnels," Sam said.

"That is correct," Jules confirmed. "The Tok’ra have been a great help to the resistance. Selmak’s death was sorely felt, even this side of the Pale."

As Jules led them along the Tok’ra tunnels, the wall sliding closed behind them, Sam fell back and motioned for Daniel to do the same.

"This gets weirder and weirder," she whispered. "Why would a Tau’ri resistance movement attract Tok’ra aid? They’re too stretched to do something like that out of the kindness of their hearts."

"I’m not sure," Daniel replied. "I have an idea, but I don’t like to think about it." Sam raised her eyebrows, questioningly. "It’s possible that Napoleon hasn’t just killed Ra. If he has Hathor sitting at his side as Queen, and Setesh his governor on Earth…"

"…Both Goa’uld who rebelled against Ra’s original rule…"

"…Then maybe Napoleon is on his way to becoming, not just supreme System Lord, as Ra was, but the _only_ lord of the Goa’uld. He’s got the technology, the genetic memory of his parasite, and the ambition to try something like this. And if he succeeded…"

"The System Lords would stop feuding amongst themselves."

"The Tok’ra would be wiped out in years, and the Asgard wouldn’t be able to police the Protected Planets Treaty. The Goa’uld would be the unchallenged masters of the galaxy."

"We _have_ to get out of this world," Sam said, with an air of finality.

"I’ll buy that, but how? And we still have to get Jack and Teal’c out of the dungeon."

"I should reiterate," Jules told them, and they suddenly realised that he had stopped, allowing him to catch up with them. "That the chances of helping your friends are slim. We will do what we can, but only one person has ever escaped from that dungeon."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"You are about to meet her," Jules replied.

*

"We trust that you have been made comfortable." Teal’c opened his eyes at the sound of Setesh’s voice, speaking in the Goa’uld language, and pulled against his chains. They were sturdy, and well-fixed into the wall, and he could not come close to reaching the Goa’uld. "You disappoint us, Teal’c, in so many ways. How could you imagine we would come so close if you were not securely restrained." The Jaffa was fixed down on a steeply inclined board, with chains at each wrist and ankle. He was almost upright, and his eyes were more-or-less level with Setesh’s, but despite the closeness, the fear which had gripped Teal’c in the throne room did not touch him.

"And how could you imagine that the fabled First Prime of Cronus could pass through our Stargate unmolested. Did you believe your own legend, Teal’c? Did you believe that you could defeat our army single-handed?"

"I am not the First Prime of Cronus," Teal’c replied. "As you can see, I was in the service of Apophis."

"Of course you are," Setesh replied, sarcastically. "The most trusted servant of the Goa’uld who slew your father by his own hand in the battle for Ra’s throne, before both armies were decimated by Napoleon’s surprise attack. A laughable pretence. Was I perhaps supposed to believe that Apophis had turned against the God-Emperor?" Teal’c lay silent, taking in this information. "But we will know the truth. As you come under false colours and with an enemy of the Goa’uld, you will be afforded no protection or courtesy. You may crush armies, Teal’c, but you are no match for a God."

"That is true," Teal’c replied. "But then you are no God." Setesh’s eyes burned with rage. "No more than any Goa’uld. You are a worm; an intestinal parasite with an inferiority complex," he added, borrowing a turn of phrase from his human friends.

"Silence!" Setesh commanded, slamming the palm of his hand into Teal’c’s chest, the power of the ribbon device searing through him. The Jaffa screamed in pain as his body twisted against its bonds, but when the device came away, leaving the merest shadow of a mark on his skin, Teal’c’s face remained set in a mask of defiance. "Your reputation is not unearned, we see," Setesh remarked. "No matter. Anat!" He called.

The door to the cell opened, and a Setesh Guard entered, accompanied by a young girl of sixteen or so. The girl was strikingly beautiful, with very dark red hair, dusky skin and dark eyes, but she had a look of cold, hard arrogance on her flawless face which reminded Teal’c of a Goa’uld Queen. Despite that, he could not sense a Goa’uld within her. She was dressed in a loose, modest, white robe of wool, and moved with an unconscious grace and pride.

"Teal’c, first Prime of Cronus, may we present our finest torturer, Anat." The girl stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Our daughter," Setesh added.

"I am honoured," she said, sincerely. "Your strength and courage are legend; to break them will be my highest achievement."

"I will try not to disappoint you," Teal’c promised.

"We are sure you will make us proud," Setesh assured Anat, running a finger along her graceful jaw.

"I shall do my best, as always, father," she said. The Goa’uld nodded to his daughter, then turned to face his prisoner. "We leave you in our daughter’s care, Teal’c." As he spoke, Anat crossed to a table, where instruments clinked and rattled. She crossed to Teal’c’s side, a small, delicate blade in her small, delicate hand.

"You won’t stay?" She asked, a little petulantly.

"I have other matters to attend to," Setesh replied, regretfully, letting the royal ‘we’ slide momentarily. "Teal’c, when you are ready to speak with us about your master’s plot, Anat will call us."

"Please don’t waste time by claiming you are ready to talk when you are not," Anat added. "I will know if you are lying."

"Adieu, my daughter," Setesh said. As he passed the Jaffa who stood by the door, he stopped to whisper to him: "Do not let him touch her." In the doorway, Setesh turned to face Teal’c again. "You may soon wish to be anywhere but here," he said. "And with anyone but Anat. But I assure you that anyone in this palace would sooner be in your place, than in O’Neill’s."

*

Jack woke in pain, his head throbbing, and feeling about the size of a watermelon. He slowly levered himself into a sitting position, and felt a moment of disorientation at the feel of the surface beneath him. Instead of the stone floor he had expected – or even the sheets of an infirmary bed at the SGC, where he had more than half expected to wake up after the craziness of yesterday’s events – there was a silken sheet, over one of the softest mattresses he had ever felt. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked around at the room he was in, and decided it looked like a set for The Ten Commandments, with just a handful of elements from one of the classier breed of porno movie.

"Well; this dungeon is certainly better than advertised," he remarked to himself. He stood, slowly and shakily. "Ah; good. Legs still seem to work. Now where’s my shirt?" He looked down. "And my pants?" He gathered a couple of the silk sheets and wrapped them around himself, one about his waist, the other across his shoulders. The silk felt odd and slippery, but it was better than nothing, and for now that seemed to be the other option.

He steadied himself for a moment, as his head spun once more, then began to examine the closets in the room. They were all locked. He was looking around for something to break in with, when the door opened, and light flooded the room.

"Aaaaah!" He protested, as his head pounded violently. A soft, cool hand touched his brow, gently stroking his temple. It seemed to help, or else he just adjusted to the light, and slowly his head cleared. When it did, he was able to see that the light now came from the ceiling of this room, as well as from the room beyond the door, and that the hand belonged to an incredibly beautiful woman – they seemed to have a lot of them around here – who was dressed in a soft, white gown, with a gold-and-lapis collar around her neck. Her black hair was cropped in a sharp line around her shoulders, her eyes were dark and her skin was a deep, middle-eastern brown. She had an air of incredible pride and dignity that bordered on arrogance, but her eyes were full of an amused tenderness.

" _Salut_ , Jack O’Neill," she said, in a smooth, honeyed voice, filled with concern. " _Je m’appelle Astarte_."

"Hi," Jack replied, wincing as he spoke. Astarte smiled, and walked to one of the cabinets. She did not seem to unlock it in any way, but it opened easily at her touch despite having resisted Jack’s most strenuous efforts. "Don’t think I’m ungrateful," he assured her, as she took out two golden goblets and a crystal decanter. "But why aren’t I in the dungeon?" She poured a dark red wine into the goblets. "Or a eunuch?" He added.

"Ah. You prefer Anglais?" She asked. "English?" Jack nodded, and wished he hadn’t. "Drink this," she told him, proffering the wine with a smile. It smelled strong, and he eyed it doubtfully. "It will help with the pain in your head," she promised. "And see? I drink too." And she did, sipping from her glass. Warily, Jack took a sip, and the throbbing dulled slightly. He gulped down the rest of the glass, and felt the ache subside. He turned to regard the woman properly, without the distraction of the pain.

"That’s good stuff," he admitted. "But you haven’t told me why I’m here."

Astarte nodded. "But I shall, Mr O’Neill. Setesh ordered you taken to the dungeon to be tortured, and eventually killed." She took the goblet from his hand, brushing her fingertips against his skin as she did so, and turned to refill both from the decanter. "I rescued you from that fate."

"That’s very nice of you," Jack said. "And I appreciate the effort, but I’m guessing there’s some ulterior motivation going on here," he hazarded.

"Naturally," Astarte replied, handing him his goblet. "Cheers." She drank, and he took a long draught before he could think about it. He lowered the half-empty goblet, realising he had been careless and coming back on his guard again. He was also aware that Astarte had moved very close to him. "I find you too interesting to be casually slaughtered."

"Oh. Well, I’m…flattered," Jack replied, a little disturbed at her offhand use of the word ‘slaughtered’. "So you’re, um…You’re a snakehead, aren’t you?"

"A Serpent Guard?" She sneered.

"A Goa’uld," he explained. Her eyes burned, confirming the suspicion.

"You should not speak so disrespectfully of your Gods," she said, the Goa’uld rumble overlaying her sweet voice, her English still imperfect and heavily accented. "But I do not expect any better of a former Tok’ra host."

"Huh?" Jack asked.

Astarte stepped forward, and ran her free hand through his hair. He stepped back, but she followed. "We are curious," she said, switching to the royal we. Her English remained imperfect, and added an uncertainty to her words which detracted from the arrogance of her tone. "Why would Selmak sacrifice himself to save his host? What do you possess that is so important?"

"Well, you know. Many people have remarked on my great, uh, sense of humour."

"It has always baffled us, that a Tok’ra would choose to blend with a lowly scribe," she continued. "Your skill as a leader was most unexpected."

"Oh well…" Jack demurred, feeling a blush creep up the back of his neck. He sniffed at the air, suddenly suspicious again. "Is that just your perfume?" He asked. "Or are you trying that pheromone stuff on me."

"Such tricks are for the weak," she said, disdainfully. "But you have been exposed to a Queen’s kiss?" She asked, with a hint of jealousy.

"It was nothing serious," he assured her. "She really just wanted to stick a snake in my gut. Charming, psychotic little redhead."

"Hathor," Astarte spat with astonishing venom, her eyes flaring with rage.

"You two girls aren’t friendly then?"

"She displaced us when Napoleon succumbed to desire for her. She is a vile witch, with a hunger that matches the God-Emperor’s own." Her look softened as she turned her attention back to Jack. "But you broke from her control? Again we are impressed, Mr O’Neill."

"It was nothing. We…gyah. _I_ , had help."

"It is still no small feat," Astarte insisted, stepping towards him again, and this time sliding a hand inside the sheet he wore around his shoulders. "You have spilled your wine," she noted. "Shall we pour you more?"

"Yes. Please," Jack replied, eager for any excuse to put some distance between them. He noted that she was not wearing a ribbon device, and wondered vaguely what his chances would be of making it out of her chambers if he managed to overpower her. Probably slim-to-none, he realised; there would be guards outside; lots of them. Goa’uld were arrogant, but rarely reckless with their own lives. Astarte returned, and he took the goblet, draining it quickly as she pressed herself closer than ever to him. "Oh; looky. Out again," he gasped.

"Hush," she whispered, without the Goa’uld rumble, and she slid a hand into his hair and kissed him. He felt warm and tingly, and tried to convince himself that the wine was drugged.

*

"Greetings, brother; greetings sister." The young woman greeted Daniel and Sam as they were ushered into the small chamber. She was tall and slender, and dressed in a loose brown robe. She had fair skin, but dark hair and eyes, and for different reasons, both Daniel and Sam reacted strongly to her presence. "I regret that I can not offer you much comfort," she continued. "But for the most part we must remain literally underground in the capital, and our supplies are limited."

"You’re Josephine," Daniel said, awed. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. "I’ve seen portraits," he said. "But I thought they must be…That is, I didn’t think you’d be…so young." Daniel felt foolish for letting himself run off at the mouth, but the fact that the Empress Josephine was alive in the year 2000 was startling enough, but she also looked _younger_ than she should have been at the time of Napoleon’s Egyptian expedition.

"Thank you," she replied, blushing. "But you understand; you have been in a sarcophagus."

"Yes," he replied, impressed. "How did you know?"

"When you use one of those things often enough, it leaves its mark on you," she answered. "Even after its hold on you weakens. Others who have been through the same experience can sense that."

"Arrete…Stop!" Jules cried. Daniel turned and saw Sam wrestling the zat’nik’tel from him. She gestured him back, then turned the weapon on Josephine.

"You’re Goa’uld," she accused.

"I am not!" She replied, hotly. Her eyes blazed with very human anger, but after a moment she looked away from Sam. When she looked back, her eyes glowed white, but bore no malice. "I am Tok’ra," she assured them.

"Sam, it’s okay," Daniel insisted.

"But the Tok’ra don’t use the sarcophagus," Sam reminded him. "It drains the good from you."

"I have never used a sarcophagus," the Tok’ra replied. "But Josephine did for many years, before she saved my life, and we were blended. Surely Selmak talked of me," she added, her voice still calm despite the gun pointing at her. "I am Jolinar."

"Jolinar of Malkshur?" Sam asked, the zat wavering.

"I am she," the Tok’ra replied. "Don’t you know this? Did not O’Neill-Selmak tell you of my presence here?"

"O’Neill-Selmak?" Daniel asked. "Jack was blended to Selmak?"

Sam took a step towards the other woman, lowering the zat, and reached out her free hand. "It _is_ Jolinar," she whispered, almost to herself. Jolinar regarded her with some confusion.

"You were once blended," she remarked. "But to whom?"

"Um…could we have a moment?" Daniel asked.

"Of course."

"Thank you. Sam?" He motioned for her to join him in the corner of the chamber. "You’re sure that’s Jolinar?"

"Absolutely," Sam replied. "That is the Tok’ra who died inside my head. I guess in this world we never met."

"And Jack was blended to Selmak, and by the sound of it, both of them are dead."

"I wonder what happened to my father," Sam said. "Probably no-one would know." 

Daniel shrugged. "I doubt we could find out much about our alternate selves," he agreed. "This world doesn’t look like it has many computerised records. Or in fact, computers."

"Well, we’ll know if they exist if any of us start to suffer entropic cascade failure in the next day or so," Sam pointed out.

"There’s something to look forward to," Daniel replied, with little enthusiasm. "Do you think we can trust Jolinar?" He asked.

"I don’t know," she admitted. "But from what I have of her memories, yes. She was committed to the Tok’ra cause since her birth, and she was willing to sacrifice herself to save me. I don’t think this world can have made such a huge difference to her." 

Daniel nodded. "Okay; then I think maybe we should tell her about the alternate universes. It looks like these people can help us, and maybe we can help them before we go, but I think we’ll have to be honest with them." 

Sam looked over her shoulder, to where Jolinar was talking soothingly to an angry Jules. "Okay; let’s give it a shot," she said. "But if they don’t have quantum theory in this world, it could be a long explanation."

*

"So, Jaffa; tell me about your service to Cronus?"

"I was…" Teal’c began, but had to stop to gather his strength. "I was the First Prime of Apophis." He braced himself for the torment that must surely follow another ‘lie’, but he could not claim to have served the murderer Cronus. The girl regarded him curiously, but although she held a small, barb-tipped probe in her hand, she made no move to use it.

When Setesh had taken him for questioning, Teal’c had expected the Goa’uld to torture him using the ribbon device, and the announcement that this child was to carry out the torture using simple blades had been almost a relief. The relief had not lasted long. Anat’s instruments were deceptively dainty, but she wielded them with a surgical precision, and had drawn more screams from Teal’c than he knew he had in him.

It also surprised Teal’c that she went about her business with a smooth and professional manner, and gave no sign of the enjoyment in pain that he expected from a Goa’uld’s torturer. Rather, beneath the arrogance he caught occasional signs of a tender, innocent compassion for her victim, that was always snuffed out as swiftly as it came.

"It’s strange," she said. "Father told me that you’d say that, but he thought it was a lie. It isn’t, is it; you really were the servant of Apophis?"

"Yes."

"Were you _ever_ in the service of Cronus?"

"No."

"How curious. Now how can that be, do you think? When everyone knows that Teal’c is the First Prime of Cronus, and the sworn foe of Apophis?"

"I could not say," Teal’c replied. 

Anat nodded, and with a smooth, deliberate motion, slid the probe into one of the hundreds of cuts marking the Jaffa’s body. Without his symbiote, he would have succumbed to those wounds long ago; how long he could not tell, for he had already lost track of time. Surely it could not be more than hours since the torment had begun.

"Anyway," Anat said, her voice still innocently curious as she twisted the probe in Teal’c’s flesh. He screamed, long and loud, amazed that he could still feel enough to experience such pain, and when she relaxed the pressure and his screams subsided, she continued as if never interrupted: "How does the First Prime of any System Lord come to be travelling in the company of a Tok’ra traitor?"

"I did not travel with any Tok’ra," Teal’c gasped. Again, Anat merely nodded.

"It’s a funny thing, truth; don’t you think?" She asked Teal’c. "I mean, here we are, discussing things that I _know_ to be false, and yet I also know that you are telling me the truth. How can they both be true? And don’t tell me you don’t know, because I know that that is a lie."

Teal’c said nothing. Anat shrugged, and tried the probe in some of his other cuts. When he was no more forthcoming, she went over to her instrument table, carefully cleaned the probe and bathed her hands.

"I think you deserve to know how well you’re doing," she said. "Even for a Jaffa, your resilience is quite excellent. I can see why everyone is so afraid of you." She came back to the table with two new instruments, a silvery, articulated claw, and a long spike with a lever at one end. "Now, I warn you that this will be most uncomfortable for you. I’m going to inflict direct harm on the emanation of Apophis within your belly. This device is designed to prevent the blood of the God from entering your bloodstream, but there is a chance that the procedure may go wrong, in which case, you will die, in terrible pain. Obviously, this would be a failure for me, as well as the end of your life, so please; if you want to be more co-operative _before_ I begin, it would be in both our best interests."

"You truly take no pleasure in inflicting pain on others?" Teal’c asked.

"Why should I?" She asked.

"Then why do you do this?"

"Really, I should be asking the questions," she reminded him. "But I will answer your question, if you will answer one of mine." Teal’c remained silent, but Anat set her instruments down for the moment. "I do this because my father asks it," she said. "Because it is my duty. Why did you become a warrior? Was it not to do your duty? Do you think that Gods have no obligations?"

"I became First Prime of Apophis to avenge my father’s death at the hands of Cronus," Teal’c told the girl. "But I learned something of great importance in Apophis’ service. That the Goa’uld are false gods." 

For the first time, anger suffused Anat’s features. "Liar!" She snapped, driving the spike hard into Teal’c shoulder. 

Teal'c gasped in pain, but did not cry out. "My people, the Jaffa of Chulak, were slaves of the Goa’uld for thousands of years, but they are nothing without us. They have no power, no…"

"Silence!" Anat squeezed the handle of the instrument, and something moved in Teal’c shoulder, drawing another cry from his lips. "You will cease these blasphemies at once!" She commanded, but there was uncertainty. If she knew if someone was lying, then she must hear the truth in Teal’c’s voice.

"They have no power," he gasped. "But the strength of their Jaffa, and the gifts of their technology."

"No! They give the Jaffa their power! It is the emanation of the God within them…!"

"It is no emanation. It is the larval form of the Goa’uld themselves. Has your father promised you will inherit the power of his blood when you are of age?" He saw a flinch in her eyes that told him he was right. "When you are old enough, he will take the prim’ta from a Jaffa’s belly. You will kneel, your eyes closed, waiting his benediction, and you will feel a pain in the back of your neck. Then the Goa’uld will be within you, and it will seize control of your body and mind…"

"No!"

"…Leaving you nothing but a passenger in your own flesh."

"Silence, shol’va!" Snapped the Setesh Guard.

"That is your fate!" Teal’c roared, with all the force he could muster. "That is what shall become of you!" 

Anat screamed, twisting the instrument in his flesh, and thrust her face close to his. "Liar!" She accused again.

"Mistress!" The guard warned.

"You will say that you are lying!" She demanded of Teal’c. "Say it! Say that the Goa’uld are gods, and I will spare you! Say it," she pleaded. "And you will live and be the First Prime of Anat." With his strength fading, and the pain in his shoulder almost overwhelming, Teal’c struggled to focus the last ounce of his strength. "Say it, or I’ll…"

CRACK!

Teal’c’s head shot forward, and the gold medallion in his forehead smote Anat across the face.

_*_

"Tell us, Jack. Where do you really come from?"

"Chicago originally."

"Where is ‘Chicago’?" Astarte asked, sliding a hand along his arm. "We do not know that name?"

"Oh," Jack said. "It’s this little town in America. You probably never heard of it."

"Why did you come through the Stargate, Jack? Why not land by teltac? You must have known you could not get through?"

"We were just cocky," he replied, warily, wondering why Astarte was so interested in hearing the history of a scribe who had been Tok’ra.

"We had always heard that O’Neill-Selmak was a cautious commander."

"Well; the caution was mostly Selmak," he bluffed. "I’d always wanna go through the Stargate, and he’d say ‘No Colonel, we go by taltec’." He caught himself, realising that he had been impersonating General Carter without intending it.

"Teltac," she corrected absently. "You are a very interesting human, Jack." Jack checked himself. It could only be a bad sign that he had almost stopped noticing the rumble in her voice.

"Yeah; well you’re not so bad for a snakehead," he allowed, with fresh caution.

"But you do not trust us?"

"Not so far as I could throw you, no," he admitted. "You still haven’t told me why you dragged me out of Sing-Sing. Flattering though it might be to assume you were overcome by my dazzling masculinity."

Astarte gave a soft, sensual laugh. "We wish to see Setesh dead, and to end his governorship of Earth."

"And take over for yourself, no doubt."

"Of course, but our goals are not so dissimilar. You wish to bring down Napoleon…"

"Yuh-huh," Jack agreed, wondering it this were a test, but guessing that the resistance probably would want this.

"…We want revenge for the death of our husband."

"Your husband?"

"Ra," she replied.

"Of course," Jack said, fighting down a momentary panic. _I didn’t kill him here,_ he reminded himself. _It’s not me she wants revenge on_.

"Napoleon destroyed Ra, and allied with his enemies, Setesh and Hathor. We can not stand against them alone, but if your resistance will supply the means to destroy Setesh, we inherit Earth. As sole governor we will have the strength to stand against Napoleon, and his bid for mastery will fail. The Tok’ra’s aim will be satisfied, and we will have our revenge. After that, we go back to fighting each other."

"I’ll have to think about it…" Jack stalled.

"Do so," Astarte said, rising from the bed in a graceful, stately motion. "Wash. Wait here for us. If you try to leave the room, our guards will kill you. Neither you nor we wish that."

Astarte swept up her gown, dressed, and left the room. Before she went, she replaced the decanter and goblets, and closed the cabinet, then opened a tall door, behind which was a basin and towels.

"Whoa," Jack breathed, trying to get his head around things. _Guess I’m never teasing Danny about Hathor again_ , he thought, ruefully. While he waited, he tried the closet doors again, but they were locked, including the one in which Astarte had replaced the decanter. He tried to come up with a plan as he cleaned himself, trying to scrub the smell of Goa’uld off his skin. By the time Astarte returned, all he had really decided was that the rest of his team did not need to know the details of this little adventure, and that he would probably never feel clean again.

"Where are my friends?" He asked as she entered, clad in a rather less demure outfit in black and crimson, and carrying a small chest. He noted with some trepidation that she had donned a ribbon device on her right hand, but fortunately she did not seem to be wearing the pouch-making device which Hathor had used to turn him into a Jaffa. "And what’s in the box? It’s not a snake is it?"

"Neither a prim’ta, nor a full-grown Goa’uld would survive well in such a container," she assured him. "But you will need equipment – and clothing – to make your way out of the palace." She set the chest down, and approached Jack, who was still half-naked. She reached around to the back of his head, and stroked her fingers teasingly up and down. "If you miss the feeling of a Goa’uld sharing your thoughts," she said, in a tantalising whisper. "We might make some arrangement once I rule alone."

"Nooo, thank you," Jack replied, stepping quickly away from her. "I like having this head all to myself, thank you. Or, you know, on an equal time share," he added, remembering that he was supposed to have been a Tok’ra once. The whole mind slave thing just doesn’t work for me; I’m wacky that way."

Astarte shrugged. "As you wish," she said. "But I hope that I can change your mind, given time," she added. Jack shivered. Astarte opened the chest, and took out a pair of short pants and a hooded robe. "These are a servant’s clothes," she said. "With these you may move about the palace."

"Why do your servants have hoods?" Jack asked.

"So that the gods and their agents may go among the people, incognito," she answered. "It is one of Setesh’s little foibles, and one that shall be his undoing. Dress now," she repeated.

"Could you…You know?" He motioned for her to turn around.

"Why?" She asked. Jack couldn’t think of a convincing reason, so he dropped the sheets and dressed as quickly as was dignified in front of Astarte’s benignly smiling face. "The First Prime of Cronus," she told him. "Has been taken for torture and execution. There will be no way to save him. The pretty ones will become concubines to Setesh,"

"No way." Jack said, firmly. "That snaky son of a bitch does not get his hands on Carter." Astarte’s eyes flashed dangerously.

"Then I suggest you make arrangements with the resistance quickly, so that you can rescue them from the harem." She smirked, and suddenly seemed rather less likeable. "I note you seem less concerned for your other friend. The adorable one with the glass lenses before his eyes."

"Daniel," Jack said, feeling an unexpected surge of jealousy at hearing Astarte call him ‘adorable’. "He’s a concubine too. I didn’t know…Hey; they never told me that!" He added. "Anyway, no; no snaky-son-of-a-bitch-touching on Danny Boy either. Even if he didn’t warn me I might end up being Seth’s boytoy," he added in a low mutter.

"Take these," Astarte said, handing Jack an intricate armband in the shape of a coiled snake and a small communication sphere. "Contact me when you have spoken to the resistance leaders, and we will arrange a time for me to let you into the palace. Then you and the resistance will kill Setesh, and I will turn Earth against its God-Emperor."

"What’s this?" Jack asked, holding up the armband.

"A zat’nik’tel," she replied. "Wear it under your sleeve." Jack fastened the weapon around his wrist, taking a moment to locate the trigger. "It shall be not be long before Setesh knows that you have escaped," she told him. "Go now, and contact me soon."

Jack nodded, and headed for the door. Then he turned back.

"What is it?" Astarte asked, and Jack shot her with the zat. She fell, gasping to the floor.

"Not that I don’t trust you," he told her. "Well, actually it _is_ that I don’t trust you." He extended the zat for the killing shot, but the look of outrage and terror in her eyes stopped him. It was hard enough for Jack to kill a woman, even a Goa’uld, but to kill one he had slept with just was not in him. Once it had been; once he would not have thought twice, but that was a different Jack O’Neill.

With a cry of frustration, Jack struck Astarte in the head with the communication sphere, and she fell unconscious across the bed. Jack dropped the sphere on the sheet beside her, deciding _not_ to carry a traceable communicator into a rebel base, and then he left. The Jaffa – Horus Guards, Jack noticed – in the atrium outside made no move to stop him.

*

"When Napoleon’s soldiers managed to defeat Ra’s forces on Abydos, and destroy Ra himself, the Tok’ra believed that it was the first step towards the fall of the Goa’uld," Jolinar explained. Daniel sat opposite her, listening to all that she said. Sam listened also, but distractedly, working on a Tok’ra writing tablet. "Without his stabilising influence, the other System Lords began to turn on each other, battling for his throne. Foremost among them, Ra’s two great rivals."

"Cronus and Apophis," Daniel said.

Jolinar nodded. "The Tau’ri were left in control of Abydos while the System Lords fought over Ra’s other worlds. Heru-ur fell swiftly to Cronus’ forces, the Horus Guards fell inwards in confusion, and the conflict between Cronus and Apophis became our main concern. We knew that the war must be drawn out, otherwise the victor would be in a position to inherit all of Ra’s power, so we turned our efforts towards evening out each battle, and towards the conversion of war-weary Jaffa. It was a long and bitter struggle, but in 1825 of your calendar, we and the System Lords learned that a new Goa’uld was laying claim to Ra’s territories; a Goa’uld named Napoleon."

"Did Napoleon really maintain control over his Goa’uld?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, he did. It is rare to find a human with the discipline to even influence the parasite, but somehow Napoleon’s drive and ambition carried him through. Perhaps they were equal to the Goa’uld’s desires. Whatever the case, when he was blended in 1805, to allow him to take command of Ra’s Jaffa, his personality remained dominant.

"Using the power of the Goa’uld, and the resources of Ra’s mothership, Napoleon achieved almost total mastery of the Earth by 1824. Only a few lands – the very North of the American Continent, parts of Scotland, most of Scandinavia, Southern Africa, China and Australia; some mountain regions besides – remained free of his total control. Even there he gained influence, but not control. Those are the areas where the resistance grew up, beyond the domain of Napoleon’s Empire, which became known as the Pale. By the Emperor’s command, all of the Tau’ri are now Napoleonic citizens; that is why we call ourselves by our nationalities to announce our allegiance," she explained.

"When we learned of Napoleon’s ascendance, we thought that it might help in balancing the power of Cronus and Apophis, but we – and they – quickly learned not to underestimate the newcomer. In 1834, Apophis tried to seize one of Ra’s favourite host worlds, only to be beaten back by the Eagle Guards."

Jolinar broke off her narrative, and looked away for a while. When she continued, it was with Josephine’s voice. "Napoleon had been worried about the succession, since I could not give him a child, but once he was a Goa’uld, and had use of the sarcophagus, he no longer concerned himself with begetting an heir. He made me his Empress, but not his Goa’uld Queen. Napoleon wanted his Josephine, not a Goa’uld in her body. For breeding new Goa’uld larvae, he retained Astarte; Ra’s former Queen, and once Queen to Setesh. She had stood by Ra when her husband rebelled, and became his Queen when Hathor was exiled, but with the Horus Guard falling in behind Napoleon she saw little use in opposing him. Napoleon placed a Marshall on Abydos, Astarte in Ra’s capital, and ruled from Earth with me at his side, kept young by Ra’s sarcophagus.

"Then Setesh came to him, and Napoleon made him his minister. Still none of the other System Lords could match him, and in 1903 he decimated the armies of Cronus and Apophis when he attacked them in the middle of a battle over one of Ra’s lesser planets. That was the battle where the father of Teal’c was slain by Apophis’ own hand. Since then, no System Lord has dared challenge Napoleon."

"Which means that the inherent instability of Goa’uld society is no longer working for the Tok’ra and the Asgard."

"Precisely. And we fear that unless we can break Napoleon’s power, he will unite the Goa’uld under his banner, and then the galaxy will be his. That is why Selmak and Jolinar, among others, came to Earth, to aid the Tau’ri resistance. And others joined the few who dared to rebel on Abydos."

"How did you end up blended with Jolinar?" Sam asked, looking up from her tablet. "The wife of the Tok’ra’s archenemy."

There was another pause, before Jolinar answered. "When Hathor’s tomb was discovered in 1961, Napoleon was smitten by her, even without the drug. He took her to Ra’s old capital on Karnak to rule as a true System Lord, leaving Setesh to govern Earth, and sending Astarte to rule with him. They hated each other, and so they would never join together to overthrow him. As you can imagine, this was hard on poor Josephine."

"Napoleon just abandoned her?" Daniel asked, incredulous. "For Hathor?"

Jolinar smiled at him. "He did just that," she replied. "She was enraged, and so to strike back at him, she rescued the most valuable prisoner from his dungeon and fled to join the resistance."

"She rescued you." Sam said.

"Yes, and not an hour too soon. I was dying; my host was pretty much gone already. She begged me to help her take revenge, and I refused. She was angry, petty, and I knew that she would sell us out in a moment to suit her own purposes; I couldn’t take someone like that back to the resistance. But as I was dying, she tried to save me, hoping to prove herself. At first it was a trick, but as she nursed me, she started to care."

"The effects of the sarcophagus were wearing off." Daniel reasoned.

"Again, you are correct. In the end my host was done for, but Josephine offered herself to save me. It was a truly selfless act; she expected to be destroyed by the blending. I accepted, and here you find us."

"What about Jack?" Sam asked.

"Selmak and I were the leaders of the Tok’ra who came to aid the resistance. As I became the head of the resistance here, so he became the head in America. When his former host grew old, he passed to a younger man; Jack O’Neill. O’Neill was a scribe with the Imperial forces in Canada, who witnessed one too many acts of brutality. He diverted a huge shipment of weapons so that the resistance could seize them, and he joined up. He learned the art of guerrilla warfare from one of the great heroes of the Tau’ri resistance; Jacob Carter."

"Jacob Carter?" Sam asked, sitting bolt upright.

"You know him in your world?" Jolinar asked. Once she had been convinced that Sam truly had once hosted Jolinar of Malkshur, it had been relatively simple to sell her the rest of the story.

"He’s my father," Sam whispered.

"I am sorry to tell you that Jacob Carter had no children in our world. He died some years ago now." Sam set down her tablet and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Are you OK?" Daniel asked.

"I’ll be fine," she assured him. "Funny; I can deal with universes where I died, or married Jack and have bad hair, but the idea that I never existed…"

"It’s pretty creepy," Daniel admitted. "I take it you’ve never heard of me?"

"Alas no," Jolinar said, with some feeling.

"We have to get home," Sam said, determinedly.

*

"That…that hurt," Anat gasped, incredulously, touching her hand to her face. The Setesh Guard stepped past her, interposing himself between the prisoner and the daughter of his God and striking the shol’va with his staff. "Kree!" Anat ordered. The guard hesitated. "Jaffa kree!" She repeated. "Get out, now!"

"But, mistress," the Jaffa protested. "The orders of Setesh…"

"You have failed those orders, Jaffa," she snarled, managing a fairly decent imitation of the Goa’uld tone. The effect on the guard was immediate and dramatic. He dropped to his knees and prostrated himself at Anat’s feet.

"Forgive me, mistress," he begged. "But I must obey Setesh."

"Get out," she repeated. "Now!" The Jaffa looked up, hesitantly, as if expecting to be struck dead for daring to look upon her. Anat strode to the table, and hefted one of the most elaborate devices Teal’c had ever seen. Its purpose was uncertain, but unmistakably unpleasant. "Go," she whispered. 

The Jaffa looked at the device and paled. "Yes mistress," he said, rising to his feet. He left the room as swiftly as was dignified, leaving Teal’c alone with Anat. She turned towards him, and the instrument slipped from her grasp to clatter on the floor of the torture chamber. Her nose was bleeding, the blood running down over her mouth and chin, and her eyes were shining with tears.

"You hurt me," she said, stepping over to Teal’c. "How can you hurt a Goddess? I am inviolate," she protested, weakly. "I can’t bleed."

"Have… you never… been struck before?" Teal’c asked, blood burbling in his throat, his breathing ragged and uneven. Anat took the handle of the device still embedded in his shoulder, and moved the lever. Teal’c felt an intense relief as the blades retracted and she withdrew the spike from his flesh. She dropped the instrument on the floor beside the other.

"Of course not," she replied, disdainfully. "It is forbidden for any mortal to touch me, and my father would not strike his daughter. I…I should have you killed for daring to strike me," she added, but uncertainly.

"I am to be executed anyway," Teal’c replied. "But you will not…order it."

"And why wouldn’t I?" Anat asked.

"You say that you…" He coughed blood. "Know the truth when it is spoken, Setesh-ta-Anat." She leaned forward and wiped at the blood around Teal’c mouth with her fingers. "Then you know that I speak the truth when I say that the Goa’uld are not gods, merely pretenders." 

The tears in the girl’s eyes began to run down her cheeks. "What am I?" She asked.

"You are the child of…Setesh and one of his…concubines?" Teal’c asked, and was answered with a nod. "Then you are…human."

"Father taught me that it was no crime to harm or use a human, if it served the purposes of the gods, for they are less than us. But if I am human…" Her eyes filled with horror at the thought.

"It is…a great sadness," he said, fighting the urge to let himself pass out. "When a father is made to lie to his child…perpetuating an untruth that was told to him by…his father, who had…it from his father. It is a greater crime…when a father would practice such deception willingly."

Anat stared at Teal’c for a long moment, then stepped away, and fetched him a cup of water. The Jaffa spat blood to clear his mouth, and then accepted the proffered drink with gusto. The girl wiped his face with a damp cloth.

"What can I do Teal’c?" Anat asked. "I don’t know what to do."

*

Jack could barely believe he had made it this far. He was sure that Astarte would have her guards after him as soon as she woke up, and knew he had to get somewhere more out of sight. He knew that he would also have to try and find the dungeons and rescue Teal’c, and since that would be the last place they would expect him to go during an escape attempt, this seemed to be as good a time as any. Then he and the Jaffa could try to work out a way to rescue Danny and Carter before the big aardvark tried to have his wicked way with them.

That would do for a plan, he decided, but there was one more problem: He had no idea where the dungeon was.

"Arrêtez-vous, esclave. Où allez-vous?"

O’Neill turned to face the two Eagle Guards who had stepped from the corridor behind him. They had their helms closed, but stood more-or-less at ease. This was probably only a routine challenge, and O’Neill might have been able to bluff his way past; if he spoke any French.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" He chanced.

The two Eagle Guards looked at each other. "Vous n'êtes pas mon type," one of them replied.

"Worth a try," Jack said, then he pointed at something behind them. "Kree!" He shouted, alarmed. They half-turned, and he fired Astarte’s zat’nik’tel into their backs. "I can’t believe they fell for that one," Jack admitted to himself. He fired two more shots into the first guard, then knelt by the second, finding the stud to lower his helmet, then punching him twice in the face. "OK sunshine; let’s you and me go somewhere a little more private."

Jack dragged the unconscious guard into what appeared to be some manner of utility closet, then stripped him of his armour. It was a little on the loose side, but after a few practices he managed to get used to moving in it. He had no idea how Teal’c managed to look so comfortable in the stuff though; he felt ridiculous. He hefted the Eagle Guard’s staff weapon, and prodded him until he woke up.

"Rise and shine," he said. "You’re going to tell me how I get to the dungeons, aren’t you?" With a roar, the guard leaped at O’Neill, who shot him in the gut with the staff weapon. "Or not," he amended. "Well, that was a waste of time." At least it gave him a new disguise; one that Astarte did not know he was wearing. He felt around the collar for the stud, and raised the helmet.

"I just hope I don’t meet anyone I know while I’m wearing this," he muttered, as he went back out into the corridor. "OK; so dungeons, probably underground," he reasoned, and set out to find some stairs.

*

"My agents in the palace tell me that O’Neill was not taken to the dungeons," Jolinar reported.

"Well that’s good," Daniel replied. "Isn’t it?" He asked, off her grim look.

"Maybe not. It seems that Astarte demanded that Setesh give her one of the prisoners; O’Neill was in her custody. However, it may be that he has escaped. I can not be sure – we have few insiders and they must maintain low profiles. However, they will do what they can to aid him."

"What about Teal’c?" Daniel asked.

"He is in the dungeons, and my people will not risk themselves attacking the security there…" Jolinar tailed off.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up from her tablet. She and Daniel had both changed into lightweight Tok’ra outfits. They had a pyjama quality which made Sam feel like they should be getting ready for bed, but they were comfortable, and much better than Setesh’s flimsy ogling robes. "For a Jaffa? Is that it?"

"Attacking the dungeon would be suicide. There are many Jaffa, and remote weapons besides. There is nothing to be done." She paused, and hung her head. "But yes; my people will not take risks to save a Jaffa."

"But he’s different," Daniel protested. "He has turned against the Goa’uld."

Jolinar averted her gaze. "I believe you," Josephine assured Daniel. "But my people do not accept it. And they would not risk the dungeon anyway."

"Can’t you order them?" Sam asked.

"No. And I would not if I could. We’re not talking about an army," she explained, directing her words mainly to Daniel still. "My people are a handful of volunteers, and I am their leader only by consent. I won’t betray their trust by ordering them to a useless death."

"Then get us back inside," Sam said." Give us disguises, and a pair of zats, and we’ll go and do it ourselves."

"It’s a maze," Josephine protested. "You’d need a guide and I’ve no-one to send. Besides which, Setesh must know by now that you’re missing."

"But we have to do something," Daniel said. "They’re our friends. I’m not keen to go back into the lions’ den, so to speak, but I can’t just sit here and wait to hear that they’ve been executed."

Josephine sighed. "They will be looking for two," she said. "I can try to get one of you to the dungeons, so that you may see what you are up against." She turned to Sam. "But I beg you not to do anything foolish. I fear that you can do nothing for your friends, but the resistance could use people like you."

"We don’t plan on staying long," Sam replied. "But if we do end up stuck here, I guess we’ll do what we can to help you."

"Thank you," Josephine said. "I will have Jules take you to the edge of the dungeon. From there, you may decide how you wish to proceed."

Sam nodded. "No wait," Daniel said. "I should go."

"Daniel, I’m much better at this," Sam reminded him. "No offence, but you fight like a girl."

"None taken, and you’re right, but you were also blended with Jolinar. When we tried to infiltrate Seth’s organisation, that was what gave us away."

"Seth is unlikely to be at the dungeon," Josephine pointed out. "If she is more experienced, then she should be the one to go. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to go back into the lions’ den?"

"I don’t, but they are my friends, and it has to be me. For starters, if they’re looking for a man and a woman, they’ll spot them if Sam goes up there with Jules, and we can’t risk one of the Goa’uld sensing the naquada in Sam’s bloodstream. Besides, you have to figure out how to get us all home."

Sam nodded, grudgingly. "Be careful, Daniel," she said. "No heroics."

"I promise to be craven," he assured her, turning to Josephine. "Take me back up," he said.

"Alright," she said, reluctantly. "If I can’t change your mind. Come with me."

_*_

Astarte woke with a groan, and gingerly felt the lump on her head. "Curse you, Jack O’Neill," she muttered, rising unsteadily to her feet. She crossed to the cabinet, opening it with a touch and pouring herself a goblet of the wine which she had laced with a restorative drug for O’Neill’s benefit. The pounding in her head receded, and she was able to think clearly again. She noted that O’Neill had left the communication sphere behind; well, that was not unexpected.

She stalked angrily from the room, into the atrium of her chambers. The two Horus Guards stood to attention outside the door, and since O’Neill’s departure, two more had returned to their posts by the main entrance, and two at the door to her private quarters. Their commander, Rahetep, resplendent in the uniform of the First Prime of Astarte, waited in the centre of the atrium, and bowed before his mistress as she approached him.

"You have spoken with the Eagle Guards who brought the strangers from the Stargate," she said.

"Yes mistress," he confirmed, although she did not frame it as a question. "Two of them overheard something of the strangers’ speech. They await your pleasure without."

Astarte nodded, satisfied. "Bring them to my chamber," she told him. 

As Rahetep hurried to obey her command, Astarte entered her private chambers. As befitted a goddess, she had a large number of rooms for her personal use, beyond even the atrium and her guest quarters, all arranged off a large foyer, curtained on all sides, and open to the sun. She passed around the ornamental pool, and strode to her throne, a magnificent jewelled seat which formed the centrepiece of the foyer. She sat, arrayed in her finery, and touched the stud to unfurl her mask. A shining black face, as beautiful as her own but completely impassive, rose up across her features, and a lapis and gold head-dress such as had been worn by her husband Ra surrounded it. She lifted her sceptre from beside the throne, a heavy, double-headed war axe. When the Eagle Guards were escorted in, it was to the presence of the black goddess of destruction that they were admitted.

"Speak to us," she commanded, after dismissing Rahetep. "Tell us all that the strangers said."

She sat and listened as they told her, showing great patience as they corrected themselves and each other time and again, fussing over details, repeating and contradicting themselves, and struggling to outdo each other in their fawning over the beauty of the goddess. Through all of this, she sat, dignified and terrible, and when at last they had finished, she responded with no more than a nod.

The two guards prostrated themselves, honoured to receive even such slight recognition. With stately, dignified movements, but a powerful, predatory sensuality, Astarte rose and strode in a circle around the Jaffa. Then, with a slight smile, she raised her sceptre.

When he answered his mistress’s call, Rahetep found Astarte soaked in blood amid the dismembered remains of the two Eagle warriors. Her sceptre lay at her feet among the blood, her eyes burned with white fire, and she clutched a writhing Goa’uld larva in each hand. It was a sight Rahetep had seen many times before.

"Remove this carrion," she ordered.

"At once mistress. Should I send for two young ones to accept the prim’ta?" He asked.

Astarte looked at the wormlike beings which wriggled in her grip, as if noticing them for the first time. "The spawn of Napoleon and Hathor," she sneered. "Not worthy of the Jaffa of Karnak." So saying, she tightened her grip, crushing the life from the squealing creatures and dropping them among the ruin of their carriers. "See to it the bodies are destroyed," she instructed. "And bring me the strangers’ possessions."

*

Anat took a healing device from her torture set, and held it over the injured Teal’c. Her face took on a look of total concentration, and the disc glowed as it worked its power on the Jaffa. He could feel his body beginning to mend.

"I had not thought it possible to use such a device without the presence of naquada in the bloodstream," Teal’c admitted, as he tested his aching limbs. "Such as comes with possession by the Goa’uld parasite."

"I have used such devices since I was an infant," Anat told him. "At first I could not make them work, but I learned." 

Teal’c rubbed the feeling back into his hands. "You use it well," Teal’c said.

"Be careful," Anat cautioned. "You are healed, but you will be weak until you have a chance to perform kelno’reem and commune with the eman…With the larva, in your belly-pouch. A human would be weak for months. Although a human would have died some hours ago if I’d done what I did to you," she added.

"Would you have done that?"

"Of course not," Anat scoffed. "No-one has ever died on my…" She broke off. "Is that something I should be proud of?" She asked.

"It is a rare skill," Teal’c admitted. "And you are highly accomplished; the best I have ever been tortured by."

"Really! You’re not just saying that?"

"Really. Although perhaps you had best be less open about that accomplishment with others. I believe I am ready to leave," he added. Anat nodded. Teal’c held out his hands, and she looped a cord around his wrists so that it looked as though he were bound.

"Wait just a second," she said. She opened the door and stepped outside, turning to face the Jaffa. "Give me your zat’nik’tel," she instructed. He handed over the weapon and she fired three shots into him. "Quickly," she said, beckoning to Teal’c, and he stepped out of the cell. The Jaffa’s body was gone, along with his armour and staff weapon. "Now if anyone stops us, you’re my prisoner," she reminded him. "I’ll take you down to the lowest cellars. Almost no-one goes down there, so you shouldn’t be found. There are also said to be tunnels that the resistance use, although father could never find them."

"I must aid my friends," he said. "Once we are out of the dungeons I will go my own way."

"Don’t be ridiculous, Jaffa," Anat told him. "You are in no shape to help anyone." As if to prove it, she caught his arm and pulled him down a passageway. Teal’c was barely able to keep up, and had no chance of resisting. "See? You’ll be stronger after you perform the kelno’reem, but until then you have to hide. If you overexert yourself now you’re likely to collapse. Now come on."

Reluctantly, Teal’c followed the girl through the dungeons. On occasion she would stop and deactivate the tacluchnatagamuntorons that guarded the passageways. The few Jaffa that they could not avoid rarely challenged them, and none questioned the daughter of Setesh.

"Will you not be made to suffer for this?" Teal’c asked.

Anat turned to look at him. "Probably," she replied. "But maybe I should be. I’ve hurt so many people." A tear rolled from her eye, and Teal’c reached up to wipe it away.

"I too caused great harm as the First Prime of Apophis," he told her. "But I believe it is more important that I atone for my deeds, and work to free my people, than that I be punished." Anat nodded her thanks, and turned to lead him off again.

As they turned a corner, they came face to face with an Eagle Guard. Anat stepped forward, but the Jaffa levelled his staff weapon at the girl. Without thinking, Teal’c grabbed the staff and swung the Jaffa against the corridor wall. As he pressed in, the Eagle Guard held up his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, big guy," he said, the voice distorted by the helm as his hand groped inexpertly for the release. Teal’c reached out and pressed the stud, and the Eagle helm slid away from the features of Jack O’Neill.

"Colonel O’Neill," Teal’c said, surprised.

"None but he," Jack assured him. "How do you manage to see where you’re going in these things?" He asked.

"It takes many hours of training," Teal’c replied. He felt suddenly dizzy, and almost stumbled, but Jack caught him and set him back upright.

"You okay, Teal’c? You look a little woozy; and you usually hit harder than that."

"You are O’Neill-Selmak?" Anat asked, awed. Her English was strangely accented, but flawless.

"Kind of yes, and kind of no," Jack replied. "Teal’c; who’s the girl, you dog."

"Dog?" Teal’c asked. "This is Setesh-ta-Anat, who released me from captivity. Anat, this is Colonel O’Neill." Another dizzy spell washed over him.

"Hi," Jack said to Anat. "What did they do with you?" He asked Teal’c, carefully letting the Jaffa take his own weight again.

"I was very efficiently tortured over a period of several hours, O’Neill," Teal’c replied. "It was a most painful experience. How have you fared?"

"Oh. Much the same as you," Jack replied, glibly.

"Have you any word of Daniel Jackson and Major Carter?"

"Setesh seems to have taken a shine to them both," Jack answered. "I’d say we have to get them out of there ASAP."

"Agreed," Teal’c said. "We will go now."

"We will not," Anat interjected, in a tone of command. "Teal’c couldn’t fight a kitten right now. We have to get him somewhere safe, where he can perform kelno’reem, and _then_ you can go and rescue your friends."

"Yes ma’am," Jack replied, raising his eyebrows at Teal’c. "Come on then Teal’c; let’s go off so you can kelno’reem like the lady said."

"As you wish, O’Neill," Teal’c assented. "But I request that you let me use the staff weapon if we are attacked. I have no wish to be defenceless, and you wield a staff weapon like a club."

"Be fair, Teal’c," Anat said. "O’Neill may be weaker than you. Astarte is one of the greatest torturers in the Goa’uld domains. I would love to know what she did to you, O’Neill," she added with a hopeful smile.

"I, um, don’t think that’s appropriate for your ears," Jack said.

*

"Are you sure I can’t persuade you not to go?" Josephine asked.

Daniel shook his head. "I’m going," he said. "But I wonder why it’s so important to you that I don’t?"

"Because you won’t be able to help, and I don’t want to see you get hurt," she admitted. "You and Major Carter are smart, and resourceful, and you know about the Goa’uld; we could use you in the resistance," she added, averting her gaze.

"Well, I’m flattered, but it doesn’t change my mind," Daniel told her. 

Josephine nodded, resignedly. "Alright. Good luck then." She reached out and touched the wall, and the stone became clear, showing them the passage beyond. Josephine paused. "I hear someone," she said in a whisper. "Jules, come up here." The resistance fighter slipped quietly up behind the two of them. "We can see out," Josephine whispered to Daniel. "But no on out there can see in." Daniel crouched and listened, and heard voices drifting down the corridor.

"…if there are tunnels, this is where they’d be. The cellars don’t go any lower." A girl’s voice, haughty and impatient.

"What is our plan? Do we just sit around and wait for someone to pop out and say hi guys, step on in?" Daniel smiled as he heard that voice, and he motioned for Josephine to open the door. Jules drew his zat, but Josephine complied, and as the three figures came around the corner, the wall in front of the tunnel irised open.

"Hi guys," Daniel said. "Step on in."

"Holy Hannah!" Jack exclaimed. "Where did you spring from, Daniel?"

"Tok’ra tunnels," Daniel replied. "The resistance rescued us from Setesh’s…personal choir," he finished, lamely.

"Yeah; cool. ‘Cos we heard you were both being taken to the harem." Daniel blushed. "Good to see you safe and well. Ooh," he added. "And with a threatening man with a gun behind you."

Daniel half-turned, and saw Jules standing defensively in front of the tunnel. "Jules, Josephine; it’s alright," Daniel told them. "These are Teal’c and Jack, and…"

"Anat!" Jules spat. "The spawn of Setesh."

"Okay. Maybe less alright than I thought," Daniel admitted.

"Teal’c," Jack asked. "What were you doing hanging out with the ‘spawn of Setesh’?"

"As I told you, O’Neill; Setesh-ta-Anat released me from captivity."

"And did you know she was the spawn of Setesh?"

"Uh, Jack; Setesh-ta _means_ daughter of Setesh," Daniel interjected. Jack made his ‘how silly of me’ face.

"She was introduced to me by her father, and tortured me before securing my release," Teal’c added.

"Oh for crying out loud! Teal’c…"

"Like the Jaffa, she has been lied to all her life, and believed her father a god. She now knows otherwise."

"She is her father’s child," Jules accused.

"We can not stand here all day," Jolinar interrupted. "And we can not let the girl go now she knows where this tunnel is. Daniel, will you vouch for the Jaffa?"

"Absolutely," Daniel replied.

"Jaffa, will you vouch for the child?"

"I will," Teal’c replied.

"Thank you," Anat whispered.

"Then we shall take her below, and then decide what to do with her," Jolinar decided.

"We should kill her now," Jules declared.

"We take her below," Jolinar repeated. Jules met her gaze for a long moment, but finally looked away.

"Very well," he said.

"Thank you," Daniel said, making the remaining introductions as they began the journey back to the resistance base. "Jack, Teal’c; this is Jules, and the former-Empress Josephine, also known as Jolinar."

"Oh, as in…"

"Yes, as _in_ Major Carter," Daniel acknowledged. "And we’re all _very_ confused."

*

Mackenzie, First Prime of Setesh, entered his master’s harem chambers with a certain degree of trepidation. He tried to maintain his confident swagger as he passed through the perfumed garden, into the pool house, breaking his stride only to step over the master’s lovelies where they lounged and dallied. This – the Jaffa knew – was a paradise of the kind that awaited Setesh’s loyal servants in the afterlife, given the correct funeral arrangements. Ordinarily, any chance to be in this place was something he took care to appreciate, but that was when he was summoned, instead of coming with bad news. Setesh was not a God who liked to be disturbed, nor one who had much patience with the bringers of bad news. Be that as it may however, he felt that the news he bore could neither wait, nor be delegated. Besides, so long as he bore his precious cargo, the prim’ta which Setesh had chosen for his daughter’s ascension, he knew that he would not be permanently harmed.

Like most of the Setesh Guard, Mackenzie had been born in the former British Isles, where Setesh had been based before he made his pact with Napoleon. When the Emperor had established France as the home of his Jaffa, Setesh had created his own enclaves in Britain, to breed Jaffa loyal to him for his personal guard. Astarte meanwhile refused to use Jaffa bred anywhere but her old enclaves on Karnak. The Setesh Guard was the smallest of the three who operated in Napoleon’s Empire, having neither the sheer numbers of Jaffa that Napoleon controlled, nor a Queen to give a regular supply of Goa’uld emanations. That was the role that Setesh envisioned for his daughter, once she matured into her power.

"My Lord Setesh," Mackenzie called into the darkness of the God’s sanctum, at the centre of the pool house. Somewhere within, a woman giggled, her voice slurred by the breath of Setesh – the nishta – but he could see nothing. The interior of the tent-like structure was as black as night. "My Lord Setesh," he called again.

"What is it, our most favoured servant," the voice of the God purred in Mackenzie’s ear. Setesh studied his First Prime for a long moment. "Is it perhaps that our two newest pets are – despite ‘delays’ – ready for our pleasure? Or is it that the First Prime of Cronus is ready to speak with us? No?" The Dark God stroked his hand down the side of Mackenzie’s face. "Or is it that my loyal hounds have _failed me_!" He barked, thrusting suddenly against the First Prime’s chest and throwing him to the ground. "Do tell us all," Setesh invited.

"My Lord," Mackenzie grovelled. "The two who were taken to be prepared for your pleasure, and the Jaffa Teal’c, have…"

"Escaped," Setesh snarled.

"We believe the two were immune to the effects of nishta, possibly as a result of pre-exposure by the Tok’ra."

"And the Jaffa?"

"We do not know. The guard on his chambers has vanished. As has…" The God’s eyes burned. "As has your daughter."

"We see," Setesh said, simply, and Mackenzie’s blood ran cold. "Find our daughter," he ordered. "Return her to us, or we will have our entire guard executed," he continued, his voice still as calm as the pools that surrounded them. "If you see any of the strangers, kill them, and bring their _bodies_ to us." He turned, and walked back into the sanctum. Mackenzie turned to leave, before the God could change his mind.

"First Prime of Setesh," the Dark God called after him. "You will begin taking a course of sacred drugs that we will provide. These will speed the development of your precious prim’ta. We believe that it is time for our daughter to come into her power."

Mackenzie shivered, knowing that his death was at hand. "Yes, Lord Setesh," was all he said.

*

"Colonel; Teal’c!"

"Major Carter," Jack returned the greeting. "Good to see you with your honour intact. This is Teal’c’s new special friend, Setesh junior." Anat had stayed close to Teal’c, keeping a wary eye on Jules, who in return kept a wary eye on her. Sam looked at the girl as though she were a venomous snake.

Teal’c made his way to a seat, and sank heavily into it. "If it is possible," he said to Jolinar. "I should like to retire to a quiet place, where I may rest."

"In good time," the Tok’ra replied. "First, we should decide what to do with the daughter of Setesh."

"What is to decide?" Jules asked. "The witch has murdered dozens of our people…"

"That’s a lie!" Anat protested. "I never killed anyone."

"Information obtained through her tortures condemned them," Jules went on, refusing to address himself to the girl. "Are we to accept her on the word of a Jaffa and three strangers?"

"We’re supporting her?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"Well, it does seem that she saved Teal’c’s life," Daniel said. "Whatever she may have done before that."

"She was sent here to spy on us," Jules accused. "The rescue was staged to win our trust."

"The rescue of a Jaffa," Teal’c noted. "Whom you have no reason to trust. It seems a poor choice, and a high risk for a Goa’uld’s favoured child."

"She’s a spy I tell you."

"Then you will watch her, Jules, and see she makes no attempt to communicate with anyone," Jolinar said. "Remember that not everyone who has served the Emperor does so still." There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"On another front," Sam said, brandishing her tablet like the original Ten Commandments. "I think that getting home will be as simple as travelling back to P1X-138 from the Earth Stargate."

"Sweet," Jack said. "Although we still need to get to the Stargate and activate it."

"Yes, and there’s another complication…"

"Isn’t there always?" Daniel asked, rhetorically.

"Well, P1X-138 has no indigenous life, and we detected few resources, so the chances are that in the two centuries since our timelines diverged, there hasn’t been any industrial or agricultural activity to alter the climate, which would mean that atmospheric conditions are pretty much the same. No butterflies, no butterfly effect. So we can assume that the same sunspot activity is causing the same atmospheric disturbance, _but_ , to filter back into the right quantum universe, we’ll have to hit exactly the right level of disturbance."

"And we do this, how?" Jack asked.

"Well, based on my observations of the sunspots and the disturbances – you remember, the ones you wanted me to ignore and watch the pretty lights? – I should be able to calculate a window in which we’ll have to enter the Stargate."

"So we’re all set."

"Except that I don’t have my observations. They’re in my PDA, which is still in the palace. Somewhere. And at best the disturbances will only last three more days."

"Great," Jack enthused. "So we just have to go back into the palace, steal your PDA, fight off bad guys at the Stargate and jump through it at exactly the right moment or we’ll end up in a world where Hitler became the embodiment of Apophis. Wonderful; a walk in the park."

"Can the resistance help?" Daniel asked Jolinar. "I mean, could we help each other?"

"Astarte said something about wanting to take out Setesh," Jack noted. "If that’s something you can use."

"The rivalry between the two has always been our greatest protection," Jolinar told them. "Napoleon watches them closely to keep them in check, but if either were able to gain supremacy, they would challenge his power. Alas, they would also be far more able to root out and destroy the resistance if they did not have to watch each other so closely. It is in our best interests for now to keep them fighting."

"How were you able to escape?" Sam asked Jack. "Maybe there’s a way we can get to Astarte’s chambers. My guess would be our stuff would be in her place or Setesh’s."

"I kinda got lucky," Jack evaded. "Not the kind of thing we could count on again." Anat watched him shrewdly as he spoke. "What?" He demanded of the girl. 

She began to speak, then stopped. "Do you hear something?" She asked. They stopped, and listened.

"Staff weapons," Jack said.

"They’ve found us," Jolinar whispered.

"You," Jules hissed, drawing his weapon on Anat.

"No!" She protested. Teal’c rose in front of her, and as Jules made to shoot him, Daniel interposed.

"This won’t help," Daniel said, at the same moment a blast blew open the main doors to the chamber.

"Run!" Josephine cried, catching Daniel by the sleeve. Jules ran after them, followed by Sam, Jack and Teal’c, and Anat staying close to the Jaffa. They dashed out of a rear entrance, and were joined by a group of other rebels.

They ran, pursued by unseen aggressors, until they approached a crossroads and saw a group of Horus Guards approaching from in front of them. The rebels dashed for the junction, most going left. As Josephine and Daniel followed, a volley of fire from the Horus Guards’ staff weapons hammered into the walls of the left hand tunnel. Daniel hurled himself against Josephine, driving her out of the line of fire as staff-blasts screamed above them.

Desperately, the remaining fugitives ducked right, away from the torrent of fire, and barrelled down the corridor.

*

Sam ran as fast as she could go, heart and lungs working hard as she plunged to the right behind Jules and Jack. She was aware of Teal’c behind her, breathing hard in a way she had never known from the tireless Jaffa. Behind him, she could hear the sounds of pursuit, and the occasional staff weapon blast. Since these were not Setesh Guards, or the imperial Eagles, she assumed they must be Astarte’s soldiers, but how had they found them?

"Aaaah, hell!" Jack snarled, as he drew to a halt. 

Sam stopped behind him, and saw what he had seen; a dead end. "What now?" She asked.

"This is a good place…" Teal’c gasped. "To make…a stand."

"He is right," Jules agreed. "They will have to come around the corner. We will not die alone."

"Man does good stoic," Jack commented to Sam, proffering the Eagle Guard’s zat. "But you try not to die at all, okay?"

"Yes sir." She accepted the offered weapon and took up a position next to Jack. Teal’c raised the staff weapon he carried, and Jules his own zat. Anat took out the zat’nik’tel she had taken from the Setesh Guard, and offered it to Jack.

"You hang on to that, kid," he said. "I’m good." He raised his arm, with the serpent-zat coiled around the outside of the armour.

"They’re coming," Sam warned.

The Jaffa attacked in typical Jaffa fashion, with little regard for cover or casualties. The weight of fire dropped the first two, but then there were three, then five, and it became harder to defend against them. One of them must have caught only one zat blast, because he raised his weapon from where he fell, and fired, blasting a hole in Jules’s torso.

Now there were only three zats, and Teal’c’s staff fire was becoming erratic. Before long, his arms drooped, and the big Jaffa toppled to the floor of the tunnel.

"Teal’c!" Anat dropped beside him.

"Keep firing!" Jack ordered, but to no avail. A Jaffa rounded the corner and levelled his staff at Sam. "Carter!" Jack warned, pushing her aside. The staff blast caught him high in the chest and he toppled against Sam.

"Jack!" Sam cried. She fell back under his weight, and as she tried to raise the zat to blast the Jaffa, she realised that her gun arm was pinned beneath her commanding officer’s body. Two more appeared, and took up firing positions, but the killing blasts never came.

"Take their weapons." The order came from a slender woman, in a black Goa’uld mask of a woman’s face, framed in a blue-and-gold wig. One of the Jaffa came forward, and took the zats from the pinned Sam and the unresisting Anat. The woman came over and looked down at Sam and Jack. "Aah," she sighed. "Poor Jack. Such a waste." She pointed to one of the Horus warriors. "You, bring him; you three, take the other two to a cell. And dear Anat," she said, fondly. "You have had a busy day, my dear. But let’s get you back to your father now." Sam shot Anat a hateful, accusative glower, and the girl could not meet her eyes.

_*_

"I should have let Jules kill the little bitch!" Josephine was livid, furious with Anat, and with herself. She and Daniel had fled with the resistance fighters to a backup base, but Jules and the rest of SG-1 had failed to join them.

"It may not have been her," Daniel pointed out. "We were all unconscious at some point. Any one of us could have had a tracker put on us while we were out of it."

"She is the daughter of Setesh, raised by his own hand," Josephine expounded, raising her hands to the sky. "Why did I trust her for even a minute?"

"Because I vouched for her," Daniel reminded her. "Well, for Teal’c. Now we’re back pretty much to square one." He sighed. "I’d give good money for it to be any one of us but me out here, with me in there waiting to be rescued."

"Don’t say that," Josephine told him. "You underestimate yourself."

"You’re very kind," Daniel replied. "But I’m the last person you’d want to have left to try and rescue you."

"You already saved my life once," she reminded him, with a small smile.

"I have to go back into the palace," Daniel declared. "At least try to get them out."

"But Daniel," Josephine protested. "We don’t even know if any of them are alive. And getting into the palace will be impossible now we don’t have access to the tunnels. Don’t throw your life away!"

"What else should I do?" Daniel asked. "I have to help my friends."

Josephine sighed. "Perhaps you do. Perhaps I’ve been fighting this way for too long," she admitted. "But we lose people in this war," she explained. "And we have to accept it. We just can’t go up against Setesh and Astarte – let alone Napoleon – directly."

"Then what _do_ you do?" Daniel asked.

"What we can," she replied. "We hit their supply lines, steal weapons; we free shipments of slaves heading off-world. We hit their garrisons on the borders of the Pale, we do what we can to remind the people that the Goa’uld are not gods, and not invincible; but we can not attack them directly, because…"

"They’re unbeatable," Daniel finished. "That’s all you teach the people. You rail against the Goa’uld, but the only alternative you offer them is a fugitive life, where if you get captured, no one will come after you."

"Do you think I don’t care!" Josephine erupted. The other resistance fighters stared at her, shocked by her outburst. "Jules has been with me for seven years now, and I don’t know how I’ll cope without…" She broke off, sobbing. Daniel relented, and tentatively put his arms around her. She flung herself against him and wept openly. The rebels looked uncomfortable with this scene, and drifted discreetly away. After a while she pulled away again, but it was Jolinar who sat back and spoke.

"He was in love with her," she told Daniel. "The poor boob. It killed him every time she shouted at him, and she’s hurting that she can not say sorry."

"I shouldn’t have said what I did," Daniel apologised.

"No. You were right. But you see, we can not win here. All we can do is keep fighting. It is a tough life, and has been hard on Josephine. She lost Jules, who was her rock; she does not want to lose you as well."

Daniel blushed. "I still have to try and help my friends," he said. "But you don’t have to help. I know it’s not your fight."

"But it is," Jolinar assured him. "I wish there was anything we could do, but…"

"On Abydos," Daniel said. "Abydos in my world. We had a handful of staff weapons and submachine guns, a rabble of terrified peasants, three soldiers and an Egyptologist, and we overthrew the greatest of the System Lords. Since then, we’ve broken the power of half a dozen Goa’uld: Hathor, Apophis, Sokar…There’s a widespread resistance movement on Chulak, we have allies across the galaxy, and friends in the Tok’ra and the Asgard."

"You did well," Jolinar admitted. "But there are so many Jaffa in the palace."

"And so many people in Cairo," Daniel reminded her. "And more weapons and organisation than we had. You have to publicly humiliate and expose the Goa’uld. Hit them at home, and the people will start to believe. Maybe I’m just saying this because I want to save my friends, but don’t you think it’s time to start thinking you can win?"

Jolinar was silent for a long time. "She was right, Daniel Jackson," she said. "you greatly underestimate yourself." She stood, decisive and strong, and called out. "Pierre!" One of the resistance fighters came back through the door. "Contact the cells, and our agents in the palace. Have all who can ready themselves, and come to the capital tonight." She turned and looked at Daniel, her Goa’uld eyes shining as she said:

"Tomorrow we take the fight to the Goa’uld."

*

Sam sat in the corner of the cell and fidgeted, trying her best not to disturb Teal’c, who was performing kelno’reem. He was terrifyingly still, and only his breathing reassured her he was still alive at all. She figured they had been in the cell for almost three hours now, since they were brought up from the tunnels.

Since Jack had died.

Everything still felt numb. It was not the first time they had lost a team member – hell, it was not the first time they had lost Jack – but every time was hard, because even when you had seen a friend you thought gone snatched from the jaws of death, to look on that lifeless form brought a horror as fresh as the first time. It might have helped her to talk, but Teal’c had been almost too weak to speak since his relapse. She had found no sign of physical injury, but his skin had felt cold and dry, and she had not been sure he would pull through. Of course, he could recover completely, only for them both to be executed in the morning.

When Teal’c finally moved again, she felt the weight of loneliness lift ever so slightly.

"Hey Teal’c," she said, in a small voice.

"Major Carter," the Jaffa replied, sounding almost like his old self. "What has happened?"

"Jack’s dead," she told him, the words coming flat and lifeless from her mouth. "Daniel may have made it to safety with the resistance, but I don’t know for sure. We were captured by Astarte."

"Colonel O’Neill is dead?" Teal’c sounded much like Sam felt; as though it could not possibly be true. He rose, and walked to stand by the bars.

"How you doing?" Sam asked, after a while.

"I am well. I have recovered the strength that I lost during the healing process." Sam found herself wishing that it were Daniel in the cell with her, and not only because the idea of Teal’c rescuing her and Daniel was more credible than Daniel rescuing her and Teal’c. No, she wanted Daniel here because she _needed_ someone to talk to, and Teal’c was simply not a great talker. If she could talk about it, then she could cry, and she needed to do that before it drove her mad.

"No. I mean…" She began to try again, but broke off as the door of the room was opened. The row of bars still stood between them and freedom, but Sam picked herself up and stood straight and tall, unwilling to give Astarte the satisfaction of seeing her grieve.

But it was not Astarte who entered.

"Teal’c. I’m glad to see you recovered." Anat had changed since their return to the palace. Gone was the practical torturer’s one-piece, to be replaced by the general finery of a Goa’uld. She wore a gold-and-lapis head-dress, with a red cloth covering the back of her head, and her garments were in dark colours: reds, golds and black. She looked utterly stunning, but unutterably sad. Two Horus Guards watched the door, while a Setesh Guard stood at Anat’s shoulder.

"Come to gloat over the condemned?" Sam asked, harshly. She felt angry at the girl for daring to appear before them with a look of sorrow on her face.

"It was not I betrayed you," Anat told Teal’c. "What you said to me, Teal’c; it did open my eyes."

"If not you, then who?" Sam demanded.

"I believe…" Anat said, then paused. "I believe it may have been Colonel O’Neill," she whispered.

"You bitch," Sam choked, spinning on her heel and turning to face the wall.

"I can not believe that," Teal’c told Anat. "Colonel O’Neill is our trusted comrade."

"But he lied to you," Anat told him. "He said that Astarte tortured him, and that was a lie. If you do not believe me, believe that he would not have been strong enough to walk if she had done so."

"Colonel O’Neill is not a traitor," Teal’c said, firmly.

"You knew him; I did not. If you say he was no traitor, I will accept that. But perhaps he was tricked. I do believe that he was permitted to leave her custody," the girl added. Sam squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think of Astarte’s reaction to Jack’s body.

Anat took a step towards the bars, but the Setesh Guard behind her rapped the foot of his staff weapon on the floor, and she stopped. "My father has told him that I am suffering from a temporary insanity brought about by my imminent ascension, and that they are permitted to lay hands on me to keep me from harm," she explained. "I am to be fused with the divine emanation borne within the First Prime of Setesh this evening."

"I am sorry," Teal’c told her.

"Well, I suppose I shall have no regrets after this evening. Such is the advantage of godhood," she added sadly. "I am sorry about your friend…" She tailed off, finding nothing to say.

"Setesh-ta-Anat," Teal’c said. "All is not yet done, and there is hope." Anat smiled faintly.

"Not for me I fear," she replied. Then she stepped quickly toward the cage and seized two of the bars in her hands. The Setesh Guard moved forward to grab her, but Teal’c was able to reach back and touch her hands as they slipped away. "I will do what I may for you, while I remain," she whispered, and then the Jaffa was bearing her roughly from the room, and the door slammed shut.

"Hateful little bitch," Sam whispered.

"She has only just emerged from a simple world," Teal’c reminded her. "She knows only that O’Neill lied to us."

"Teal’c; she just said that to…Didn’t she." Sam turned to face Teal’c.

"I already knew that O’Neill lied," the Jaffa replied. "As surely as I know that he did not betray us."

Sam put her arms around the Jaffa and wept. Teal’c held her gently until she was done, and afterwards they sat together, awaiting their fate.

*

Jack woke with a start, which came as quite a surprise, as he had never expected to wake again. It took him a moment to collect his bearings, but at last he realised where he must be. He climbed to his feet and stepped out of the sarcophagus, noting that he was now dressed in a sort of kilt and blouse, both black, and that his hands were bound in front of him. He stood at the head of a high dais, surrounded by curtains of gold and black silk.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, beloved." Astarte’s voice came from behind him.

"Hey, it’s great to be back," Jack admitted. "Why am I back?"

"For the same reasons as before." Astarte stepped up behind O’Neill, and slid her hands around his waist. "Given the proper penance, we are prepared to forgive the injury you have done us, and accept you back into our arms."

"Yeah? That’s good of you, really. But about that little bump on the noggin; I’m sorry it was so sudden, but I realised it really never would have worked out between us. I mean, we come from two different worlds. For starters, mine’s sane."

Astarte laughed, a sound both amused and ominous. She stepped around in front of him, so that he could see the golden mask that covered her features. Below the mask she wore a black silk gown that reached to the floor and pooled around her feet.

"Ah yes; different worlds indeed. Come with us, beloved," she said. She moved off down the steps of the dais, and passed through the curtains. In case her words were not enough to compel obedience, two Jaffa moved in to flank Jack and escort him in their mistress’ wake.

*

"So. Astarte," Daniel said, as he and Jolinar shared a frugal meal in the resistance base. "Canaanite goddess of love and death, right?"

"Desire and destruction," Jolinar told him. "She has two masks; or rather one mask that can change its aspect, from gold to black. She wears the golden mask – and not much else – as goddess of desire, and the black as goddess of destruction."

"What else do you know about her?"

"She’s an aggressive over-achiever, even if she doesn’t have Hathor’s lust for power. She’s a Goa’uld Queen, but she is not as strong as most. She can not exhale the Queen’s Kiss, the pheromone drug that…"

"I know what it does," Daniel assured her, as awkward as usual when discussing the situation. "If she doesn’t have it, that at least makes Astarte a little less dangerous."

"Don’t be so sure," Jolinar corrected. "She doesn’t have the Kiss, and she does not use any of the tricks that Setesh does…"

"The nishta, and the E.L.F.?" The Tok'ra nodded.

"…But that just means that she works harder. Josephine met her once, when she was first sent to Earth; I barely knew her for a Goa’uld. She was charming, almost vulnerable, that’s how she gets to people. If you release them from their nishta fugue, most of Setesh’s concubines would feel revulsion that they let him use them."

"They’d turn away from him," Daniel agreed. He had seen it happen.

"Because he relies on the nishta, Setesh has forgotten how to win people over any other way. Hathor is the same…"

"Amen."

"…but not Astarte. Most of her servants would die for their goddess. They yearn for her, adore her; we have far less success in placing agents with her than with Setesh."

"What’s she likely to do with my friends?"

"I don’t know. She is as renowned as a torturer as she is as a seductress, and she has a foul temper besides; if they anger her…She may simply kill them out of hand."

*

In Astarte’s foyer, Sam and Teal’c waited by the pool, their hands bound in front of them, a Horus Guard at each side of them. They had been brought up from their cell to ‘await the pleasure of the goddess’ some ten minutes ago. Having cried herself out on Teal’c’s broad shoulders, Sam felt ready to face Astarte with dignity.

Astarte entered from a curtained area behind her throne, her mask gleaming gold, and behind her, flanked by two Jaffa…

"Jack!"

"Hi, Kids," Jack replied.

"Colonel O’Neill. We believed you were…"

"Dead? Yeah I heard that rumour to. Happy to say it was an exaggeration."

"Silence," Astarte commanded. "You were not brought here to banter." She walked by her throne, and lifted a vicious-looking axe which did little to compliment her outfit.

"Well, where’s the fun in that," Jack wondered aloud. One of the Jaffa struck him in the back of the knee with his staff weapon, and Jack grunted in pain.

"We are told," Astarte said, ignoring the interruption as she stalked in a slow, predatory circle around Sam. "That you gave your life to save this one, beloved." Sam flinched.

"I’d do the same for any of my people; and they do the same for me," Jack told her. His eyes were uneasy, and Sam felt a shiver of premonition.

"Really?" Astarte asked. "And there is nothing more between the two of you?"

"Just good friends, really," he assured her.

"We would love to believe you," Astarte said, sounding regretful. "But we can not help but feel that this one poses a threat to our relationship." Sam tensed. "You understand?"

"No!" Jack tried to move forward, but the two Jaffa caught him by the arms. Sam moved quickly, bunching her bound hands into fists and driving them hard into the gut of the Jaffa on her right while Teal’c tackled the guard to their left. The Jaffa bent double as she struck at his pouch, and she was aware of Jack beating off one of his assailants, when a burning pain swept up her spine. Sam’s legs went numb, and she crumpled to the ground.

Driving his guard to the ground, Teal’c turned just in time to see Carter fall, a long red slash gaping in the back of her Tok’ra tunic. With a roar, the Jaffa lunged at Astarte, but the Queen turned with incredible speed, driving the handle of her axe into his face, and swinging the blades – stained with Major Carter’s blood – up to touch his neck. The mask she wore had turned as black as obsidian.

Teal’c drew to a halt, giving the two Horus Guards time to recover and seize him. They wrestled him to the ground. Looking across to the steps, Teal’c saw O’Neill kneeling, unresisting as the other two Jaffa laid their hands on him.

"Sam," O’Neill whispered.

"Remove this carrion," Astarte ordered, and two servants moved from the shadows to obey. "Fear not, beloved," Astarte told O’Neill. "We will give you time to regret your mistakes, and grow to love us again. Once we find the right partner for you, all of this will seem as nothing, and you will rule with us forever."

"You. Bitch!" O’Neill hissed.

"No witticism? No gibe?" Astarte asked, disappointed. "Ah well." She turn to her guards. "Take them away, and prepare them for us. We shall come to you soon, Jack…"

"Don’t call me that," O’Neill told her, but she ignored him utterly.

"…And you shall tell us of your home in Chicago; or watch the shol’va die in agony." She waved a hand, and the guards began to manhandle Teal’c and O’Neill away. The Jaffa struggled for a moment, but realised that escape was impossible.

As the two strangers were led away, Astarte wiped the blades of her sceptre and settled herself on her throne. Retracting her mask, she drew two slim objects from the side of the cushion. The first was a writing tablet, the second a device not of Goa’uld design. It had taken her some time to even begin to divine its mysteries, but it had been worth the effort. The tablet had answered many questions raised by the other device, but she had so many more.

No matter; Jack O’Neill would give her the answers.

*

"Try to be calm," Jolinar told Daniel.

"How can I be calm?" He asked. "My friends are being held by a moody, schizophrenic Goa’uld, and I’m just sitting here."

"Preparations are proceeding as fast as possible," she assured him. "It took some time to contact all of the resistance cells in the area, but they are mustering as fast as they can. Our people inside the palace will be busy with their own assignments, but they will do all that they can to keep your friends safe. When the attack comes, they will release them and bring them out."

"I just…I feel useless. I think I should try to get back into the palace now."

"And do what," Jolinar asked. "You can do nothing to aid your friends alone, and if you were caught you would be killed, or worse, you would be tortured and reveal our plan."

"I won’t betray you," he swore.

"Daniel, under torture everyone breaks eventually, and Astarte is legendary."

"See! One more reason to get my friends out now." 

Jolinar looked away from him, and Josephine looked back. "You’ll get yourself killed!" She cried, desperately. "Don’t you see that? You have to wait, and join us tomorrow." She caught him by the hands. "We can do this, Daniel," she promised. "But we need you."

"You have the whole resistance; what could you need me for?"

"Then _I_ need you," she whispered, gripping his hands more tightly, and leaning closer to him.

Daniel drew away sharply. "No!" He said, harshly. "This…My friends are in danger. We are not doing this."

Josephine moved after him as he tried to walk away from her. She caught him by the shoulders and drew herself up behind him. "Daniel…"

"Not tonight, Josephine," Daniel snapped. His voice came out harder than he had intended, and she recoiled as violently as if he had struck her. He stayed where he was, fuming inside at her, and at himself, as she moved away. He heard a sob behind him, and a guilty twist began in his gut. "Josephine…" he began, softly. She began to cry, and after a moment he turned back to her. She had curled up on her sleeping palette, her back to him, as she gently shook with her sobs.

Tentatively, Daniel stepped up and sat on the edge of the palette. He put out a hand and touched her shoulder. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’m just frustrated."

She turned red and swollen eyes towards him. "I know," she whispered. "That’s the point."

"Huh?"

"You’re tense, and so am I," she explained. "We’re both frustrated and anxious and twitchy for having nothing to do. I know you want me," she said, and Daniel could not deny it. "And you know I want you. Tomorrow we’re probably going to die, and if we don’t you’ll likely be gone forever the day after, and we’ll never see each other again." Daniel reached out to wipe away her tears with his sleeve. "And I’m sorry I’m blubbing like a child, but I hate the thought of losing you."

"No. I’m sorry," he told her. "I suppose I’m just so used to having time, I don’t really get what it feels like not to have it." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Is there room for two on this thing?" he asked her. "I think we should both try to get some sleep."

"Just about," she replied, with a bittersweet smile. "But you have to be pretty close." She shuffled herself sideways, and Daniel lay down next to her.

"I can live with close," he told her.

_*_

Sam was no less surprised to wake up than Jack had been. Her legs were oddly numb, but otherwise she felt healthy, and actually quite refreshed. Moreover, the sense of betrayal that Jack had slept with a Goa’uld had dulled, and as she rose from the sarcophagus she wondered if this _laisse faire_ attitude was a sign of the healing device’s influence. She examined herself, and found no sign of injury; the examination proved easier than she had expected, owing to her advanced state of undress. She was wearing a garment composed solely of red strips and black straps, which revealed far more than it concealed.

"If this is the afterlife," she muttered. "I really wish I’d gone to church more often." She stepped out of the sarcophagus and took stock of her surroundings as it slid closed behind her. She was in another large chamber, open to the lightening twilight sky and bordered by black and red curtains. There was a huge bed, with black and red sheets, two couches and a large, throne-like chair, also predominantly in black and red. The place looked and felt like some sort of Old South brothel. "Alternatively, if this is heaven, I wish I’d converted to something else."

There was a gold-framed mirror standing next to the sarcophagus, and Sam stepped over to it and looked herself over. "I look like Hathor’s sluttier kid sister," she concluded. Most alarming was her hair, which had changed from blonde to dark red. She hoped that this was a result of dye, rather than a side-effect of the regeneration process.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Sam turned, and saw a young woman, dressed in one of the ubiquitous hooded servant’s robes. She held a bejewelled tray in her hands, on which was a bowl of some sort of stew, a hunk of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a goblet and bottle. The servant set the tray on top of the sarcophagus, and poured a goblet of wine, which she brought over while Sam was still deciding what to make of this.

"I’m English," the girl whispered, handing Sam the wine. Sam pricked up her ears; a resistance fighter. "Setesh will come soon; be prepared for his tricks and do not heed your body. The food is not drugged, and will give you strength," she added.

"How can I get out of…?" She began, but the girl interrupted her.

"Demand to know where you are," the girl whispered. "Then throw the goblet at the base of the sarcophagus." Sam was nonplussed, but did as she was asked.

"Where the hell am I?" She snapped, with all the savagery she could muster, and flung the goblet down so hard that it bounced almost all of the way back to them. The woman gave Sam a disparaging glower, but her voice simpered meekly.

"In the chambers of Setesh, honoured mistress," she replied, as she dropped to the floor and groped for the goblet, twice fumbling it and sending it skittering to the base of the sarcophagus. She scampered after and retrieved the cup, and Sam saw her take something from under her robe and place it out of sight behind the giant device. "Please, eat. Setesh shall come for you soon." As Sam came over, the woman poured her some more wine. "Whatever you do, stay alive, and try not to be near the sarcophagus at daybreak," she whispered. "Enjoy these humble foods, blessed houri of the Dark God," she added, in her sycophantic voice, then bowed her way out, grovelling and fawning.

Sam wondered what to make of it all. She was dying to see what the woman had concealed, but from her actions suspected that the room might be observed. Instead, she set to the food with a will. The stew tasted like beef, and was richly spiced; the cheese was pungent but tasty, and it sated the hunger that had been gnawing at her belly.

As she mopped up the last of the stew with her bread, she caught a movement from the corner of her eye, and turned to see Setesh enter, flanked by two of his Jaffa, who took up positions before the curtained entrance. He wore no collar, and he smiled seductively at Sam as he approached her. He really was _very_ handsome, she realised, but there was also something slightly off-putting about him. He displayed an open confidence that was too close to arrogance, and the sinister charm in his smile was a little too sinister, and not sufficiently charming.

"We are pleased to see you up and about, Samantha," Setesh said, and she felt a cold shudder to hear it. Having anyone call her by her full name was weird enough, let alone a rather sleazy former System Lord. "Your injuries were quite severe," he added, with a note of concern which rang rather false.

"Yeah; what’s that all about?" Sam asked, moving herself so that the sarcophagus was between the two of them. "Some weird game you play with your ex-wife?" A brief darkness crossed Setesh’s gaze at the mention of his past relationship with Astarte, showing Sam that he would not necessarily need tricks to be frightening.

"She had no right to harm you, whom we had claimed as our companion," he growled. He stepped around the sarcophagus, moving swiftly, but managing to seem casual. Sam backed off a step. "We were most displeased to learn of her deeds," he assured her. "It is rare that we discover such a treasure as yourself."

 _Oh puh-lease_ , Sam thought to herself. _What next? ‘Oh, the other seventeen mean nothing to me’?_ This close, she could probably incapacitate Setesh if she moved fast enough, but he had his hand device where she was unarmed, and there were the two Jaffa to consider. "Is this where you offer to make me your queen and give me the world on a silver platter?" She asked. Setesh gave his unpleasant laugh.

"No, Samantha," he replied, and she stifled the urge to tell him to call her Sam; only her friends called her Sam. "That position will soon be taken, and were that our offer, we would not need your consent. No, we have a different role in mind for you…"

In the pregnant pause that followed his words, Setesh raised a hand to Sam’s face. She managed not to give him the satisfaction of flinching, but almost wished she had let herself dodge the touch. At the moment of contact, Sam felt an electric charge jump from his skin – or was it his hand device – to hers. She felt her skin flush and tingle, and her breath caught in her throat as a wave of desire rushed over her. The touch was fleeting, and as his hand fell, Sam felt a pang of need that bordered on nausea.

 _Do not heed your body_ , the rebel had said; now Sam understood. Setesh must have this entire chamber rigged with E.L.F. generators and other devices; a fairly elaborate set-up, but then Daniel had said that Setesh’s carnal desires were legendary. Perhaps this seduction chamber helped him to fulfil a part of his need for conquest. Sam steeled herself, and managed not to race after Setesh as he moved away. The further he went, the more powerful the need to go to him. _The need to feel the tingly E.L.F._ , she reminded herself; it was the frequencies, not the man, eliciting this reaction.

"We find ourselves," Setesh continued. "With a pressing need. Our First Prime will soon be no longer with us; he must be replaced. We believe that you would be an excellent candidate." Sam’s eyes widened. That was unexpected.

"You want me to be your Jaffa?"

"And so much more," Setesh assured her. He returned to her side, and at the touch of his hand on her arm – and a shift in the frequencies – it was all she could do to keep herself from literally swooning into his embrace. "You would be our most, intimate, protector." Sam shivered, a not entirely uncomfortable shiver, at the idea: Become the bodyguard-cum-sextoy of a Goa’uld lounge lizard.

"No thanks," she told him, wrestling with her body as Setesh’s hands caressed her arms and shoulders. She felt terribly exposed in the exploitation get-up.

"The alternatives could be dire for you," he whispered. "And you will find our service has, compensations," he whispered as the sensations within her gained in intensity. Despite his apparent youth, Sam suddenly had an image of Setesh as a seedy, ageing lecher, maybe played by Leslie Philips after the onset of middle-age spread. There was the same sort of sleazy double-entendre – although some was hardly double – at play, and the same sense that the girl would end up in bed with him, even though it was plainly against all laws of sense and decency. Appalled, Sam tried to pull away, but Setesh gripped her biceps hard. His eyes blazed, and she felt real fear of him. She would _have_ to try and break away, and risk the Jaffa, before…

"Father?" Setesh looked away from Sam at the sound of his daughter’s voice. After a moment he released Sam, and the sudden switch in the sensations invoked by the E.L.F. from lust to longing made her stagger and clutch the side of the sarcophagus for support.

"Yes, my darling," Setesh said, his voice tightly controlled.

"I brought what you asked for," the girl replied, as Sam straightened herself. She looked past Setesh, and saw Anat – still dressed in her finery – bearing a red velvet cushion before her. Sam was momentarily confused; why would Setesh send his daughter for a cushion.

"Thank you, Anat," Setesh replied, still struggling for control. Sam realised suddenly how overwhelming his desires must be, for him to display such poor restraint . No wonder Ra had defeated him. The same impetuous, arrogant desire had probably played a large part in allowing them to get so near when they destroyed him in their own world.

"Approach," he told his daughter, managing to gain a little more hold on himself. The girl sashayed up to them, and Sam saw with some alarm that she carried a ring on the cushion.

"Samantha," Setesh said. "You have met our Queen-to-be, Anat, yes?"

Sam blinked at the disturbing implications of the question before replying. "Yes," she said, managing for the most part to keep both her disgust, and her dislike of Anat, from her voice.

"I am sorry to interrupt you, father," Anat said. "But time runs short."

"Of course, child. You are correct," Setesh agreed, reluctantly. He turned back to Sam. "As you know, our daughter has recently raised doubts as to her loyalty to us." It was news to Sam. "To prove herself, she has suggested a means of disposing of our foulest rival without risk to ourselves." He took the ring from the cushion.

"A ring?" Sam asked, confused.

"This ring contains an energy weapon," Setesh said. "Fired at close range it will be more than sufficient to kill a Goa'uld host. You will take this ring, and disguised as a servant, bring my judgement upon the foul goddess." Astarte, Sam guessed. "You will be shown the route to the secret passage from her chambers, enter, and kill her. You will do so soon, since she has begun to torture your companions, and will doubtless kill them before long."

"No!" Sam cried.

"Oh yes. Unless you do this deed for us. Once the witch is slain, you and your companions may attempt to escape the palace; our Setesh Guards will make no attempt to stop you. We have no need of the others, but if _you_ wish to surrender to our guards, a place shall be available for you, as we have promised. After a period of contrition for your murderous deed, of course."

He took her hand, triggering another surge of desire – the see-sawing of these false emotions was becoming annoying – and slid the ring onto her finger. The miniature energy weapon was concealed in her palm, only a simple band visible. He closed her hand over the muzzle.

"Be warned, Samantha; we have ensured that this weapon is good for but one shot. We would not wish you to get ideas against our person." He released her, and the desire was gone, and to Sam’s relief and confusion no yearning came in its place. There was a slight feeling of loss, but nothing on the scale she had experienced before.

"I don’t trust you," she told Setesh. "How do I know you’ll let us escape?"

"You have my word," he replied, with a look which told her that he knew that she knew how much that was worth. "This way you and your friends might die; any other, your friends at least certainly will. But it is your choice, of course."

*

"It’s my fault," Jack said, for the thirtieth time. "She killed Sam because of me."

"Colonel O’Neill," Teal’c said. The two of them were chained to two marble pillars in a small room, facing a stone table. "Astarte is a Goa’uld. She thrives on fear and destruction. You can not blame yourself for her deeds." Jack was not mollified. "Might I suggest that you are troubled by something else?"

"You might, but you’d be wrong," Jack retorted, angrily. "One of my best friends is dead, whatever else could be troubling me?"

"The fact that you were unable to retract the lie you told to us; that Astarte tortured you?"

Jack was startled. "You knew?"

"I have seen the victims of torture many times, and been one more than once. It was obvious to me."

"Oh. Did Carter…"

"She did. And like myself, did not believe that this was a blameworthy act."

"That’s good of you."

"We presumed that you were either drugged, or were seeking to find a method of escape. The possibility that you were simply deceived and besotted also crossed our minds."

"A little from column A, a little from column B," Jack admitted. "I just wish I’d told her the truth when I could." He paused. "I hope Danny made it out," he added.

The door opened, and Astarte entered with her First Prime and two other Horus Guards. She gave orders in Goa’uld, and watched as the Jaffa took Teal’c down from the pillars and shackled him to the table. Once he was secure, she came over and examined him, running her hands over his skin with her eyes slightly closed.

"You have regained your strength," she noted. "That is good. You would be little use to us still weak from Anat’s ministrations. The girl shows promise, don’t you think."

"I did not talk for her," Teal’c assured Astarte. "I will not do so for you."

"My dear Jaffa," Astarte replied. "We do not expect you to talk." She turned and stalked over to Jack, and stalked around the pillar he was manacled to. "You see, we have been thinking about what you said, Jack. About how you would give your life for your friends. We find this an odd trait, but useful." Jack strained to reach her against his chains, but Astarte simply stepped calmly back one step. "So, if you are honest and forthcoming, Jack, your friend Teal’c shall be spared the worst that I can do to him, and when I know all that I wish to know, his death shall be as quick as the woman’s."

"Do not tell her anything, Colonel," Teal’c said. "It is only pain."

"Spoken like a true warrior," Astarte congratulated him. "So very naive. Withhold the truth, or lie to us, and his pain shall be worthy of a hymn to my genius, and he shall die with his prim’ta crushed within him." Her eyes glowed rapturously as she spoke.

"You’re psychotic, aren’t you?" Jack asked. She approached and stroked a hand across his chest, then leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.

"Shall we begin?" She said, striding back to the table. She stood on the far side, facing Jack. "Now pay attention, beloved; we would not want you to miss anything. Let us begin with your world."

"Earth?" Jack asked.

" _Your_ Earth," she replied, and held up Sam’s PDA and tablet. "You see, we know how you came here, Jack O’Neill; you and the other strangers. We have long been intrigued by the notion of many universes," she added.

"Scientific curiosity?" Jack asked, doubtfully, seeking to delay as long as he could the beginning of the torture.

Astarte smiled. "Whole new worlds to be conquered," Astarte whispered. "How could we not be interested?"

"I think you should know at this point that I was faking with you," Jack said.

"We find you most amusing, Jack," she assured him. "We hope that you shall retain, your, 'great sense of humour', as our consort. But now, let us begin. How did you come from your world to ours?"

"We wished upon a falling star," Jack replied.

"I see," Astarte nodded, and laid her hand on Teal’c belly. Her ribbon device flared into life, the energy stream passing into his pouch. He bucked, roaring with agony, twisting his massive frame to try and escape the searing pain. Then Astarte stopped, and Teal’c settled slowly into stillness, fighting back sobs of anguish. How did you come from your world to ours?" Astarte asked again.

*

"Madame?" Josephine stirred beside Daniel, and moved gently over him to the floor. She walked to the door of the small chamber, and opened it.

"Is there news?" She asked of the rebel who stood outside. Daniel heard her through a half-asleep fog, and swung his feet down to the floor. He had the slightly uncomfortable feeling he always got from sleeping in his clothes.

"Daniel," Josephine greeted him as she came away from the door. She stooped and kissed his cheek. "There is promising news. Our agents report that your friends are still alive, all of them, although alas, Jules was not captured. O’Neill was killed by Astarte’s Horus Guard when they captured them, and Sam by Astarte herself." Daniel was horrified. "But both have since been revived by sarcophagus," Josephine hastened to add. "It is not a perfect situation, but truly where there is life, there’s hope."

"Do we know where they are?" Daniel asked.

"Teal’c and O’Neill are still in Astarte’s hands, being questioned, but Sam seems to have escaped Setesh’s custody once more. Our agents believe she has an opportunity to try and rescue your friends, so we are moving up our plans in order to give them a better chance."

"Really! That’s great!" Daniel said.

"Yes; we must go at once." Josephine thrust a bundle into his arms. "Put on these street clothes." He did so, donning the loose-fitting robe over his Tok’ra garb. "Good, now take this zat" – again he did so – "and give me a kiss." Her eyes were shining again, and Daniel felt caught up in her exuberance, to the extent that he did kiss her, softly on the lips. "And let us go," Josephine finished, with a sweet smile. Then her expression became more serious, but no less excited. "Let’s take our message to the palace."

She reached out, took Daniel by the hand, and led him off into the tunnels.

*

"We are unsatisfied," Astarte told Jack. "How does this ‘atmospheric disturbance’ take you into another world? And how _can_ the cat be both dead and alive? That especially intrigues us."

"I don’t know!" Jack told her, again. "I only know one person in this world who could have told you this stuff."

"Who?" Astarte demanded. "We will bring them here and…"

"It’s a little late for that," Jack told Astarte. "You killed her already!" There was a long pause.

"You!" Astarte told a servant who was skulking in the shadows of the room. "Bring the woman’s body to our chambers. Even the dead are not beyond us, Jack," she reminded him.

The servant moved to obey, but as she passed behind the Goa’uld she reached out and grabbed Astarte around the throat, pressing a finger into her neck. "Back off," she told the Horus Guards, swinging Astarte in between herself and their staff weapons. "I’ve got a ring and I ain’t afraid to use it!"

Reluctantly, the guards stepped back, raising their weapons out of firing position.

"Now drop the staffs, and the zats, then unlock the prisoners." The Jaffa looked uncertain.

"Do as she says you idiots," Astarte gasped, and they all but fell over themselves to obey.

"Sam?" Jack asked.

"Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Colonel," she assured him. "Much like your own."

"Sweet!" He declared, as the Jaffa unchained his hands. "Thank you."

"How?" Astarte asked.

"How else," Sam replied. "Your dear husband."

"She’s married?" Jack asked.

"Ex-husband," Sam explained. "Setesh."

Astarte swore in Goa’uld; Sam did not know the word, but the sentiment was not entirely alien.

"Okay. You want to chain these guys up and get their guns?" She asked Jack and Teal’c.

"Or, we could just shoot them," Jack suggested.

"No," Sam replied. "We’re better than them. We don’t kill in cold blood." She drove her finger harder into Astarte’s neck. "Unless we _really_ have to," she amended. She pulled the ribbon device from Astarte’s hand, and began to shackle her to the table while Teal’c and Jack chained the Jaffa. As she fastened the chain around Astarte’s left wrist, she spotted the tablet and PDA on the tabletop. "And I’ll take these back," she said.

"Look out!" Jack cried, grabbing Astarte’s arm as she tried to level the serpent-zat at Sam. "Not so fast; beloved," he said, taking the weapon from her and shackling her right arm.

"Thanks," Sam said. "Are we set?" She asked, examining the chained guards. Teal’c hefted one of the staff weapons. Jack gathered up the Jaffa’s zats, and handed one to Sam. "Right. Let’s go. The Setesh Guards will probably be on their way by now.

They left the torture chamber, and Sam led them to the secret passage. "This takes us past the guards at the doors of her chambers," she explained. "After that we’re on our own."

"Right," Jack answered. "Do you mind telling me why we left Astarte and her laughing boys alive?" He asked.

"You weren’t buying the ‘we’re better than that’ line?"

"Ahh. No."

"This way, she’ll go after Setesh with everything she’s got," Sam explained. "And I thought you might have trouble with me shooting a woman you slept with," she added, innocently.

"I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Probably not," Sam agreed.

"What happened to your hair?" Jack asked, changing the subject.

A few minutes later they emerged from the passage, into one of the palace corridors. "Okay," she said. "We probably can’t take the Tok’ra tunnels anymore, so we’ll have to chance the front. And we’ll have to hurry, because they’ll probably be after us in a few more minutes." Ahead of them, six Setesh Guards rounded the corner. "Or less," she admitted.

"Assassin!" The lead Jaffa cried, and the six raised their staff weapons. Sam, Jack and Teal’c dropped into kneeling positions and fired back, but they were outgunned, and even as the first Jaffa began to fall, three more came up behind them.

Suddenly, a volley of fire burst from behind them, tearing into the Setesh Guards. In moments, all of them had fallen. Sam, Jack and Teal’c turned, and saw Astarte advancing down the corridor with four of her Horus Guards. She was wearing her black mask, and carried a staff weapon.

"Ah, hell," Jack muttered. There was a tense moment, as the two groups levelled their weapons at each other.

"You have nothing to fear from us," Astarte assured him, taking a step forward and putting up her weapon. "We have larger matters to deal with. You and yours may leave; our Horus Guards will not hinder you, and the Setesh Guards may soon be too busy. But watch out for the Eagles, they will still try to hold you here."

"Oh," Jack replied. "Thanks."

"Thank you for your mercy, Sam Carter," Astarte said, addressing herself to Sam. "We will give your regards to our ex-husband." She turned back to her guards. "Jaffa. Kree!" They marched straight past SG-1, and away down the corridor.

"Wow," Jack said, dazedly.

"Wow," Sam agreed.

"We should go now," Teal’c pointed out.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Good thinking; I’m glad one of us still can."

*

Jolinar and Daniel sat in one of the small shrines which ringed the main temple-palace on the Giza plateau. The Tok’ra was speaking into what looked to be a fusion of a Goa’uld communication sphere and a primitive Marconi radio transceiver – she had explained to Daniel that this device had been developed by the Tau’ri resistance as a means of communicating without the risk of interception – co-ordinating the final preparations with the leaders of the resistance cells.

"We’re almost ready," she told the human. "Once all of the cells are in position, we will detonate the charges hidden inside the palace, and begin our attack."

"How long?"

"Five minutes," she replied, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "I want to thank you, Daniel Jackson," she said. "We were stuck in a rut, I see that now."

"I’m glad I could help," he assured her.

"Josephine is very fond of you," Jolinar told him. "I wanted you to know that."

"I got that, yeah," Daniel replied. "She’s a very sweet person; hard to believe she was Napoleon’s Empress for however long."

Jolinar smiled. "I know what you mean." She said. "She’s changed a lot since we’ve been together." She cocked her head to one side and frowned. "Do you hear…?"

"The Stargate," Daniel affirmed.

They moved cautiously to the entrance of the shrine and peered around. The Gate was visible from their position, and they could make out the outer ring in motion. With a whoosh of vapour, the Stargate activated. As the event horizon settled, a tall figure in an especially ornate Eagle Guard’s uniform emerged, holding a fasces – a huge axe, its handle bound in a bundle of reeds – out before him.

"This is bad," Jolinar whispered. "This can only mean…" Following the first warrior, more Eagle Guards began to emerge, each bearing what at first appeared to be another fasces. As he watched however, Daniel realised that, while the first Eagle Guard was bearing a ceremonial axe, the others carried staff weapons in the shape of the magisterial symbol. "The Imperial Guard," Jolinar said, as the column continued to emerge from the Stargate.

In all, almost fifty Jaffa stepped from the Stargate, forming into two ranks, each two files deep, on either side of the central stairway to the palace gates. Once they had formed up, a final group of figures emerged: five Eagle Guards, four with their fasces weapons and one bearing a tall banner, crested by a sculpted eagle, and a man who – although at five-foot-six still small by modern standards – had an aura of power which Daniel could feel a hundred yards away. Even at that distance, Daniel could see that he looked like his portraits, save for the gleaming silver armour he wore under his black coat.

"Napoleon," he whispered. "And a _lot_ of Jaffa," he added.

"It is his strength," Jolinar explained. "With control of earth, Napoleon’s recruiting grounds are huge. The population of France – from which he takes most of his Jaffa – is almost as great as that of Chulak. Between Earth and the naquada mines of Abydos, Napoleon has the largest and the best equipped army in the galaxy."

"Why is he here?"

"One of his agents on Earth must have called to him for some reason." She cursed. "We have to call off the attack. With the Imperial Guard to reinforce the palace, my people will be slaughtered."

"No!" Daniel protested. "You have to go ahead with the attack."

"I understand your desire to save your friends," Jolinar promised him. "But it is useless now. We can not prevail. Please," she said, her eyes begging him to understand. "I know they are your friends, but you are asking me to sacrifice mine, and I can not do that."

*

"I think it’s this way," Jack said, leading his comrades around a corner. He stopped short. Advancing towards them were four Setesh Guards, including the First Prime, and Setesh himself, with Anat at his side, and his two Set-animals. "Oh, this is just not our day," he complained.

"Sha’lokma’kor!" Set commanded, releasing his animals. The two hideous creatures lumbered forwards, drooping jaws slavering, and not looking in the least amusing. The members of SG-1 crouched and fired at the oncoming beasts. One all but ignored a staff blast that took off most of its leg, while the second seemed unfazed by a barrage of fire from the zat’nik’tels. A second hit from Teal’c’s staff weapon dropped the first, but the second lunged at Jack, and the Setesh Guards were not far behind.

Teal’c and Sam fired on the Jaffa, while Jack wrestled with the Set animal and fired blast after blast into it from the serpent-zat. Slowly it faltered, and its frenzied attack grew weaker, but its weight still pinned him down. Sam killed one of the Setesh Guards with her zat, while the First Prime fell from a staff blast, but she felt a return shot pass through the fabric of her servant’s robe. The two surviving Jaffa ploughed into close combat with Teal’c, and as Sam turned to help, she felt an enormous force throw her into the wall. Groggily, she raised her head, and Setesh clamped his ribbon device of top of it.

*

"This isn’t just about my friends anymore," Daniel told Jolinar, taking her by the shoulders to keep her from using the communication sphere to order the resistance fighters back. "This is about your people, and their morale."

"It is about their lives," she replied.

"Yes it is," Daniel agreed. "But there’s something more important at stake now. You gathered them here to send a message: That the Goa’uld are not untouchable. If you call off the attack now, you’ll be telling them exactly the opposite. You’ll be telling your own people that resistance is impossible; that they have to hide, and skulk, and never win a victory. If you don’t strike now, you never will. If you thought you were stuck in a rut before, just wait until you see what happens if you retreat.

"You have everything in place," he told her. "If you fall back, they’ll eventually find the charges you hid. You’ll lose weapons, and they’ll know you have people in the palace. More than that, there’s something going on inside and it’s got the Goa’uld off-balance. Look outside; Napoleon is waiting for his governors to come and do him homage, and they aren’t there. They’re busy, and even Napoleon is confused. Strike now, and they’ll be off balance; you’ll never get a better chance. There’s a crowd gathering too; if you can humiliate the Imperial Guard in front of all these people, you’ll make your message all the clearer."

"We’ll be massacred," Jolinar protested.

"You’ll lose people," Daniel agreed. "But if you strike fast and hard, then melt away into the tunnels, you’ll lose a lot fewer than they do, and probably gain more." Jolinar looked at him, hard, searching his face, trying to discern his motivation. At last, she kissed him, gently, and stood back, raising the Marconi sphere.

"Get ready," she said, the device relaying her words to the cell leaders. "We attack as soon as the charges go off."

*

"Treacherous whore," Setesh snarled. Sam could barely hear him, her head was so full of agony and white noise as the ribbon device began to cook her brain. She was dimly aware that she had lost her zat, but still had the ring Setesh had given her, if only she could raise her hand. She struggled, but the pain was too intense for her to focus. Her vision swam, and she could see nothing but a blank, grey field.

"So perish all Tau’ri who oppose their gods." The voice of Setesh came dimly through the pain.

Sam’s vision was darkening, and she was certain that death must be close, when suddenly a bright light flared behind her eyes. She heard Setesh roar in anger, and as sight returned, she could have sworn she saw him lifted away from her by a giant hand. As her vision cleared, she saw that the hand was actually small and slender, and wrapped in the ribbon device which had thrown Setesh away from her.

"You are not a god," Anat whispered, her hand trembling with the enormity of her deed. Sam saw Setesh reach out towards the girl, his eyes flaring with rage and the stone in his ribbon device mirroring that eldritch glow.

"You will suffer for this betrayal, child," he growled. Then his look of rage turned to shock, as the energy blast from the assassin ring hit him in the chin, and burned a deadly path through his head. The two Jaffa wrestling Teal’c to his knees reacted with shock and alarm, crying out in the Goa’uld tongue. They fell back, one covering Teal’c with his staff while the other grabbed at Setesh’s robes and began hauling him away.

"Let them go," Sam told Teal’c. "Setesh is dead."

"They will return him to his sarcophagus," Teal’c warned. "He may yet recover." The Jaffa dragged their master around the corner, and it became a moot point. "Are you well Major Carter?"

"Mother of all headaches," she said. "But pretty good considering. Thanks to you," she told Anat. The girl blushed and averted her eyes. "I guess I owe you an apology."

"Sorry to interrupt," Jack said." But would somebody _get this damn thing off of me!_ " Teal’c and Anat hauled the heavy carcass off Jack, as Sam woozily found her feet. "What the hell are these things?" He asked.

"My father had them made," Anat told him.

"Genetic engineering?" Sam asked. The girl nodded.

"He used Tau’ri genetic science, coupled with Goa’uld technology, to design his perfect hunting beast, including traits such as ferocity, loyalty and extreme resistance to pain."

"Would his parents not buy him a puppy when he was a prim’ta?" Jack asked. "Never mind," he added quickly. "You know the way out?" Anat nodded. "Beautiful. Lead on."

Before they went, Teal’c set down the staff weapon he had been carrying, and bent to take one from the fallen First Prime of Setesh. As he did so, the Goa’uld lunged from the man’s gut and tried to slither its way to Teal’c neck. The Jaffa jumped back, and the snakelike alien was dislodged to the floor. Anat stepped over, and drove her heel down hard onto its neck, crushing the life out of it. Her face was terrifyingly calm as she stamped down again, and again.

"Something personal between you two?" Jack asked.

"It’s nothing," she replied, meeting Sam’s eye. She scraped Goa’uld from the bottom of her shoe. "Nothing at all."

"Okay. We good to go, or do you want to swap zats as well?" Jack asked Teal’c.

"This is my staff weapon," Teal’c explained. "Far superior to the ones which are used on this world." Jack looked at the two weapons, which were identical to his eyes.

"Mass production," Anat said. "Some of Astarte’s older Jaffa complain that you do not see craftsmanship like you used to in Ra’s day."

"Yeah; but everyone says that," Jack pointed out. "You’re sure that’s yours?"

"I would know it anywhere," Teal’c affirmed.

"Okay then, Campers; let’s hit the road."

*

Anat led Sam, Jack and Teal’c out of the palace doors, into the gathering dawn.

"We have to get out of sight as soon as…" she began, cutting short as the four of them drew to a halt in the face of the dozens of fasces weapons which were snapped up and open at their appearance. Behind the ranks of Eagle Guards, a crowd of humans had assembled.

"I feel like Butch Cassidy," Jack commented, as the Imperial Jaffa moved swiftly and smoothly into a better position to cover them. "You know," he went on. "This kind of reminds me of the time that Ra ordered Daniel to execute me as an example to the Abydonians."

"How did you escape that time?" Anat asked. "Just out of curiosity."

"There was a popular uprising. Also, only a handful of Jaffa."

"We’re dead," Sam said, as one of the Jaffa gestured for them to lay down their weapons. "Do we surrender, Colonel?"

"Much as I hate to say it…" Jack began, but he never got the chance to finish.

Behind them, a series of explosions ripped through the early morning quiet. They looked behind them, and saw plumes of smoke rising from the palace.

"We don’t surrender," Jack said. They turned back, and fired on the Jaffa. At first, the Imperial Guard were stunned by what had just happened, but they rallied quickly. Even then however, they continued to fall, and it slowly dawned on Jack that the Jaffa were taking fire from behind as well as from his team.

"You got your popular uprising!" Sam called, as streams of sand-coloured robes poured onto the steps with a thunderous cry of : "Tau’ri!"

"Let’s move!" Jack cried, and they began to work their way down towards the shrines and streets. Jaffa fell around them, zat blasts arcing around their bodies, or simple arrows piercing their armour. As they made it down to the rebel ranks, they found cloaks being thrown over their shoulders. "Just like that time on Abydos!" Jack yelled, exuberantly.

"Isn’t it just!" One of the rebels replied.

"Danny?" Jack checked under the hood. "You son of a gun!"

"The Jaffa are forming up," another rebel warned.

"Sound the retreat," Jolinar ordered. "Bring the injured and all the dead you can back with you. We’ve sent our message."

With the rebels around them, SG-1 retreated down the steps, and disappeared into the tunnels. Although many gave their lives, only a handful of dead resistance fighters were left on the steps, with the decimated ranks of the Emperor’s finest Jaffa.

_*_

_"Despite this cowardly attack, we assure our loyal citizens that the God-Emperor remains in full control of this planet. The attack, carried out by dissidents who desire only chaos and bloodshed, was made possible by the treachery and incompetence of our governors, who, having earned the displeasure of their master, shall learn the full extent of our wrath. They shall be removed to the most foul prison at our disposal, to live out their eternity, and the lives of their Jaffa shall be forfeit. The dissidents who dared to breach our peace, shall be hunted down, and…"_

"He does go on, doesn’t he," Jack said, interrupting Daniel’s running translation of the message being repeated ad nauseum by a giant vo’cume device in the palace. "Maybe you should hit that thing in your next attack; shut it up for a while."

"Actually," Jolinar replied. "We were thinking of hijacking it, broadcasting messages of freedom or something; we’ll need to come up with something good obviously."

"You could have it play La Marseillaise," Sam suggested.

"Or just run continuous slanders on Napoleon’s height," Jack added.

"At any rate, it sounds like he’s planning to stay on Earth a while longer," Daniel noted. "What do you know about what’s going on inside?" Jolinar was leading the members of SG-1 through Cairo. With all of the Jaffa in the region withdrawn to protect the palace from further assault and round up the remaining Setesh and Horus Guards, the streets of the city were incredibly quiet.

"Plenty," the Tok’ra replied. "Many of our agents are still in place, as the servants are mostly being spared the purges Napoleon has ordered on the Jaffa. Setesh was taken to his sarcophagus by his Jaffa."

"Great," Sam muttered.

"Do not worry," Jolinar assured her. "He was still inside when the charge concealed behind the sarcophagus detonated. Setesh is – I am glad to say – no more." She stopped, and turned. "I am sorry; that was thoughtless…"

"No matter," Anat assured her. The girl was walking beside Teal’c, with her arms looped around his bicep. "He was just using me until I was old enough to be a host for his precious Queen…"

"…which is wrong on so many levels," Jack noted, to the agreement of Sam and Daniel.

"He never cared about me at all. And he lied to me," she added. "And I suppose I must have let him."

"No-one wishes to believe their parents would lie to them," Teal’c assured her.

"I don’t know what I’m going to do now," Anat said. "I’d…I’d like to come with you," she admitted. "But I feel I have to stay; help the resistance and try to make up for all the things I did before. Although I doubt the resistance has much use for a torturer."

"Maybe not, but they may have need of someone who knows truth from lies when she hears them," Teal’c suggested.

"That is certainly true," Jolinar agreed. "The people’s spirit is high, and many wish to join the resistance. We will need people to weed out those who might be agents for Napoleon." Anat beamed happily.

"What about Astarte?" Jack asked.

"She has disappeared," Jolinar admitted. "But her sarcophagus was also destroyed, most of her Horus Guard were rounded up, and she will find no sanctuary on Earth. On Abydos, our agents report that word of the uprising has spread fast, and the mood is growing rebellious. If we can take Earth and Abydos from their control, Napoleon and Hathor will lose what chance they had to unite the Goa’uld."

"I love it when a plan comes together," Daniel said.

"We are here," Jolinar told them, opening the door of a low building.

*

Jolinar led them through a hidden trapdoor, into the building’s basement, where a small control panel stood to one side of an apparently empty area. She touched a few controls, and the panel began to hum softly. In the ceiling of the chamber, a glow began to build, revealing a set of waiting transport rings.

"This is as far as I go with you," Jolinar said. "We use the transport rings in this chamber as little as possible, and I do not want to risk a return journey."

"So, to be sure I’m clear," Sam said. "These transport rings will take us to a hidden chamber, where Napoleon keeps the second Stargate?"

"That is correct. The Stargate was discovered by an exploratory team in 1938, and brought back to Paris. When he left to rule from Karnak, he placed the second gate in this chamber. By applying a power surge to the Karnak gate, he was able to send spies to Earth unobserved, and make sure he had a means to return should Setesh or Astarte try to block the primary gate.

"The transport rings in the Gate room connect to a second set in a house in Cairo, using a special frequency so that other rings can not link with them. This set use the same frequency, which is why we power them off when they are not in use; to prevent accidental discovery by Napoleon’s agents."

"And you knew about the Gate room because Josephine knew all of Napoleon’s secrets." Sam finished.

"Well, most. If he had known how much, he never would have let her get away."

"If he had any taste…" Daniel began, breaking off with a blush. Jolinar smiled at him.

"Well; I guess this is goodbye," Jack said. "Carter, how are we for time?" Sam checked her calculations.

"Ten minutes until we have to open the wormhole."

"Okay; say your farewells."

"Too bad Astarte couldn’t be here," Sam said. "So you could say goodbye properly."

"I could order you to stop talking about that," Jack pointed out.

"True," Daniel said. "But I’m a civilian, so I could still talk about it. Which reminds me, I don’t think I’ve pointed out in the last hour that I have the excuse that I was very stoned."

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don’t _hate_ you; I just have years of Hathor jokes to make up for."

"No; I know what this is," Jack said. "You’re just jealous because I’m the only one who got any action on this trip." Jolinar smiled innocently at Daniel.

"Please," Sam scoffed. "If I’d been that desperate I could have lain back and thought of England when Setesh was making his move. I probably would have if you hadn’t rigged that ring to baffle his E.L.F. projectors," she told Anat.

"I said I’d try and look out for you," the girl reminded her. She turned to Teal’c. "Goodbye," she said. "Thank you for everything."

Jolinar walked up to Daniel. "I’ll miss you," she said. 

He nodded, a little choked with emotion. "The feeling is mutual," he told her. She kissed him softly on the cheek. Anat saw this, and stretched up to do the same to Teal’c. The big Jaffa looked flattered, if a little awkward.

"I’ll miss you, Teal’c."

"I shall miss you also, Anat," he said.

Meanwhile, Josephine’s eyes had lost their glow. She slid her arms around Daniel’s neck and kissed him deeply on the mouth. His arms wrapped around her back as he responded in kind. Anat, still peeking sideways, reached up towards Teal’c, who took a quick step away.

"I do not believe that would be appropriate for us," he told her. "But I appreciate the sentiment." Anat shrugged amiably, and Teal’c hugged her instead.

"Goodbye, Major Carter," Anat said, moving to stand in front of Sam.

"Sam," she said. "Call me Sam. And goodbye, Anat. I don’t think that’s appropriate for us, either," she added, as Anat reached up towards her.

Anat shrugged again. "Really?" She asked. "But they still haven’t finished." Sam smiled and winked at the girl.

"I know. Ask Josephine later; she’ll explain." 

Anat gave her a hug. "Did I see you packing those clothes my father gave you?" She whispered, conspiratorially.

Sam blushed. "You never know if I might need them," she replied. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Okay." When it came to saying goodbye to Jack, Anat just gave him a hug to start with.

"You’re learning already," Jack assured her. "Daniel. Shake a leg there; we’ve got a deadline to make."

Daniel regretfully disengaged himself from Josephine. "Well…" He said.

"I know…" She replied. He smiled at her once more, and joined the others, while Josephine and Anat went to the control panel. "Goodbye," Josephine said. "And again; thank you."

"You old dog," Jack ribbed Daniel as the rings descended around them.

*

"Ahh," Jack sighed, as they stepped from the Stargate under the brilliant glare of the atmospheric aurora. They were still dressed in their Cairo street clothes, and wore makeshift bandannas in place of their missing biohazard hoods. "There’s no place like P1X-138." He dropped to his knees and hugged the MALP, the surest sign that they were in the right world. "Ah MALP, beautiful MALP, how good to see you again. Carter!" He called. "How long do we wait?"

"About ten minutes," she replied. "I’ll take some more readings to be sure." She moved off a little way, studying her PDA as avidly as she had done the first time they were here, while the others went back to staring at the lights.

"Almost hard to believe we were really there," Jack commented.

"On the contrary, O’Neill," Teal’c replied. "I suffered more than enough pain to convince me that our experiences were quite real."

"Just making conversation," Jack assured him.

"Okay, Colonel," Sam called over. "We’re good to go."

"Daniel, if you’d do the honours…" Daniel stepped up to the DHD and punched in the address. The Stargate opened, the event horizon beckoning. In the absence of their GDOs – still presumably in some cabinet in the temple – Jack punched SG-1’s code into the MALP for transmission. Then he took out the unit’s radio.

"SGC, this is SG-1, do you copy?"

"SG-1, this is General Hammond," came the familiar Texan voice. "You were scheduled to return two days ago; how the hell did you manage to get held up for two days on a lifeless planet?"

"We’ll explain when we get back to you, sir," Jack promised. "It’s just good to hear your voice. SG-1 out." He turned back to his team. "OK, kids; let’s go home before the wormhole changes its mind." They all but fell over each other in their rush to reach the event horizon.

After the departure of SG-1, the solar flares continued to blaze their way across the sky of P1X-138, the disturbances building in intensity once more. As they reached another peak of activity, the Stargate opened again, and four figures stepped through. They were wearing USAF combat fatigues and biohazard hoods. Their name strips read: O’Neill; Carter; Jackson; and Teal’c. Jackson and O’Neill carried a large, ornate chest between them.

"What place is this?" Teal’c asked.

"P1X-138," Carter replied, referring to a Goa’uld note tablet.

"And this thing?" Teal’c indicated the MALP.

"We do not know," Carter replied. "But we shall leave it here; it may be traceable. Whatever interest it holds, we shall learn from Jack O’Neill’s mistake." As she spoke, she drew the hood from her head. It was pure chance that Jack had chosen to bring her zat’nik’tel, complete with its tracking device, all the way to the Tok’ra ring chamber, allowing her and her surviving Jaffa to reach Napoleon’s second Stargate after the Tok’ra and the child of Setesh had left. "We shall leave in a few minutes," she added. "According to what we learned from Major Carter’s observations, that should leave us in this world.

"Shall we return to the world of the Tau’ri, mistress?" Rahetep asked.

"No," Astarte replied. "Here, they control that Gate, and it shall be guarded. We shall find somewhere quiet to gather our strength," she decided. "And when we are ready, we shall meet with our beloved Jack again."

**Author's Note:**

> This fan fiction – my first effort – was written as a response to a challenge I set myself, in a conversation on h2g2, to whit:
> 
> "In all the AUs, with all their infinite variety, how come they always turn out to have the Stargate in the same facility, controlled by the US Air Force, with an iris, but using exactly the same iris deactivation code for SG-1?
> 
> "Why isn't there one – say – where Napoleon got hold of the gate during his Egyptian excavation period?"
> 
> The following points were raised by readers of the original posting, so I include the clarifications here:  
> * Fasces - the ceremonial axe, wrapped in a bundle of staves, of a lictor, the bodyguard of an Imperial Roman magistrate. Representing the magistrates power to dispense either capital (the axe) or corporal (the staves) punishment, the symbol has been popular with dictators ever since. Fasces is the root of the term fascist.  
> * Lounge lizard - a man, usually fairly rich and well-dressed, who spends his free time hanging around in lounge bars to pick up women. Not sure what the US/Canadian equivalent might be.  
> * Leslie Phillips - velvet-voiced British character actor, in his younger years specialising in handsome cads, and later in seedy older men.  
> * To lie back and think of England - an expression meaning to submit to sex or other indignity without enjoyment for the sake of some greater cause.


End file.
